


Single Dad

by xanderlike



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alt Us are fun., Don't Touch Lawrence's Kids, F/M, Lawrence Trying To Be Better, Little Artemis!, Matches Malone Shows Up, Teen Rebel Jade!, league of shadows, redemption fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-06 10:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 32,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15883908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanderlike/pseuds/xanderlike
Summary: AU. Instead of losing her legs, Paula Crock lost her life. Now Lawrence Crock has two goals in life: protect his daughters from the League of Shadows and become the father they deserve. If he can. If they'll let him





	1. Without Her

He comes back alone.

 

Jade is waiting for him when he walks through the door—waiting for her _mother._ She looks him up and down and she does not hide the scorn—the _hatred_ in her eyes. "It should have been you. She should have let them kill you."

 

He looks away because he knows she is right. "Your sister?"

 

"She's still asleep. She doesn't know. I'll tell her."

 

"No." He wants to let Jade tell Artemis that her mother is dead. He wants to crawl into a corner. He wants to crawl into a bottle and never come out. He wants to die because he cannot imagine this pain will ever end and it's more than he thinks he can bear.

 

But he can't. He made a promise. A promise to his Huntress. A promise to his wife.

 

His last promise to her, and this one— _this one_ —he will keep.

 

"I'll tell her."

 

Jade hates him. He knows she hates him. And he knows that he deserves her hatred, her scorn. He's never been much of a father, much of a man at all. It's right that she hate him.

 

He let her mother die.

 

He can still feel her hands as she pushed him out of the way of the sniper's bullet. The bullet that would have ended his pathetic life and freed his family from his miserable existence. The bullet that took Paula from him forever.

 

He had held her as she had bled. With her last breath, she made him promise that he would go, that he would escape. That he would find a way to save their daughters from what her death would bring them.

 

The Shadows would be coming for them.

 

The Huntress was the greatest assassin they had ever produced. They would want her children. They would want _his_ children.

 

No.

 

He will not let them have them.

 

He will not let them stain his daughters' hands with blood as Paula's were—as his are. He will not let them turn them into killers. He will not let his daughters end up dying alone on a rain soaked rooftop while their husbands flee to save their children.

 

He couldn't save Paula. He _will_ save his daughters.

 

"Pack," he tells Jade. "We're leaving."

 

"Where are we going?"

 

He half expected her to say that she would not go with him, and he's not at all sure that he could force her to. She's good already—someday she'll be even better than her mother.

 

If she lives.

 

"Away. The Shadows will come for you—for Artemis. We have to get away."

 

"Of course. Running is the one thing you're good at."

 

His hands ball into fists and she sees this. "Want to hit me again, Daddy dear?"

 

"Go. Pack. I'll talk to Artemis."

 

He walks into the bedroom that Artemis shares with her sister. She looks so young, so innocent. So small. It's hard to believe she's got the strength to draw her bow.

 

"Artemis, wake up."

 

Her eyes snap open and they're wide with fear when she looks at him.

 

There had been a time when she hadn't been afraid of him. When she had ran to him when he got home. When she demanded that he tell her stories and tuck her in at night.

 

But that time is gone—gone like Paula.

 

"Dad? What's wrong?"

 

"We have to go, Artemis. Pack."

 

"Already?" This wasn't the first time they had bugged out—the Life isn't conducive for setting down roots. In her short life, Artemis has already moved half a dozen times.

 

"Yes, baby." He's surprised the endearment slips out. He hadn't called her that since she was five. "I'm sorry."

 

Artemis's eyes widen again and he knows it's because he's never apologizes for anything, even when he knows he should.

 

_Be strong, Larry. Real men don't apologize. Apologize again and I'll beat you to death, boy…_

 

"Shut up, Dad," he mutters to that long dead ghost of his past…

 

"Daddy?" Artemis reaches out with her little hand and touches his large one. "What's wrong?"

 

He wants to wait, but he can't. He has to tell her now. He has to say the words to someone, and Artemis is the only one here. "Your mother … She didn't make it."

 

"She got caught? We're going to bust her out, right? I'll get my bow!" Nine years old and she's already planning a jailbreak—under other circumstances he'd smile.

 

"No, baby. Your mother's gone. She's gone."

 

He slips to his knees and tears off the mask. "She's gone."

 

And Lawrence Crock does the thing that his father never let him do. The thing that his father would beat him bloody for doing.

 

Lawrence Crock cries.

 

"Daddy…." Artemis wraps her arms around her father's thick neck. "It'll be okay, Daddy! It'll be okay!"

 

He knows that's not true. He knows that nothing will ever be okay again. His Paula is gone and his daughters have only him to count on—and he knows that he is not enough.

 

But he hugs his daughter to him and lies. He lies because he knows that it is what she needs to hear. "Yes, baby. It'll be okay…."


	2. Matches Makes An Offer

Money. They won't get far without money. He's got false ID, of course, but it won't take long for the Shadows to work their way through all the false leads that Paula and he had set up to protect themselves. Cash is a hell of a lot harder to trace, and he has a good sized stash in a bolt hole just a few blocks away.

 

_It was going to be for our anniversary, Paula. We were finally going to get to take the girls on a real vacation … I've been saving for months …_

 

He leaves Jade and Artemis in the car with the doors locked. Jade's got his best revolver and she knows how to use it—he'd made damn sure of _that_ years ago. He wants to run, but he makes himself walk to the third rate apartment. Running men attract attention—and he couldn't afford that with half the cops and God knows how many of the Shadows after him.

 

He opens the door—and Matches Malone is waiting for him.

 

"Hey, Lar. Sorry to hear about Paula. She was good people. Stone cold killer, but good people." Malone is bigger than he looks to an unpracticed eye—he wears clothes that are too big for him and he lounges about like he's not got a bone in his body let alone any muscle, but he's been known to lift a grown man off his feet with one hand.

 

"Malone. How the hell did you know about this place? What do you want? I don't have time for your crap."

 

"I'm Matches Malone. What I don't know about Gotham ain't worth knowing, Lar. I've got a deal for you."

 

He's debating if it'll be faster to kill Malone or just beat the hell out of him. "I'm getting out of Gotham, Malones. Find someone else."

 

"I doubt anyone else will want this information." Malone settles back in his chair and runs a hand through his hair. "For ten grand, I'll give you the name and address of the sniper."

 

The sniper. The man who killed the Huntress? The man who killed his wife? For an instant, he's almost giddy with anticipation. It'd take most of his money, but to be able to get his hands on Paula's killer …

 

"No," he finds himself saying. "I can't."

 

"You don't have the money?" Malone sounds disappointed, but his eyes are sharp.

 

"I got the money, but I need it. I gotta get my girls out of here, Malone." Malone knew he had kids, of course. It's hard to keep something like that a secret for long in Gotham. "It ain't safe for them here. The Shadows are sure to come."

 

"Be easier to let them have the girls."

 

"No!" He slams his hand down on the rickety coffee table so hard it breaks. "They ain't getting my girls!"

 

"Why not?"

 

He doesn't know why he answers. Malone is nothing to him. Why the hell does he care what Malone thinks?

 

"I made a promise to Paula. I'm getting out of the Life. I'm done with it, Malone."

 

"You tried that before, Lar. Didn't work out so well."

 

"I won't let the Shadows make my kids killers, Malone. They're going to be _clean._ They ain't going to be like Paula and me. They're going to be _better._ "

 

Malone holds up a thin envelope and strikes a match. "You sure?"

 

He wants to grab the envelope, but he doesn't. "I'm sure."

 

Malone lights the envelope and tosses it into an ash tray. He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a thicker envelope. "Here."

 

"What's that?"

 

"Your stash—plus a little extra. There's a house key in there too. I got a place you can lay low in for a while."

 

"Why the hell are you doing this, Malone?" He doesn't trust Malone—doesn't trust good fortune.

 

"Maybe because I'm going soft. Maybe I don't want to see Paula's girls become assassins. Maybe I want you to owe me big time. Why the hell do you care? Take it before I change my mind."

 

He takes it.

 

For the girls, he takes it.

 

He opens the envelope and looks inside. Aside from the cash there's a smaller envelope with an address scribbled on it. " _Kansas,_ Malone?"

 

"Yeah, little town I know about. No one will think to look for you there."

 

He's doubtful, but he hasn't got a better idea so he stuffs the envelope in his jacket. "Malone—Matches. Thanks. I'll pay you back."

 

He means it. Malone knows that. No one ever accused the Sportsmaster of being a welcher on his debts.

 

"I know you will, Lar. Now get going. Tell the girls their Uncle Matches say hello."

 

He doesn't trust himself to speak so he nods once.

 

"Lar? The Shadows. They _will_ come after you. You know that, right?"

 

"I know." His face becomes expressionless as the mask he normally wears. "And when they find me, I'll make they wish they hadn't."

 

He heads outside and back to his car. He raps on the window.

 

Jade aims the gun right at his head long enough that he's not entirely sure what she's going to do.

 

"Jade! It's Dad! Stop messing around!"

 

At Artemis's words, Jade lowers the gun and opens the door.

 

He slips behind the wheel and turns the engine on. "Okay, girls. Say goodbye to Gotham. We got a long drive ahead of us."

 

"Where are we going, Dad?" Artemis's eyes are still bright with the tears that she's shed for her mother, but there's also an undercurrent of excitement. It had been years since they had left Gotham.

 

"Yes, Daddy dear. What is your brilliant plan?" Jade's eyes are cold emeralds; if she's cried over Paula, he sees no sign of it. "Where are we going?"

 

"A little town in Kansas." He pulls out on the road.

 

"Kansas?" Jade's nose wrinkles in disgust. "What's in _Kansas?_ "

 

"It's what's not there, Jade. The Shadows will never think to look for us there."

 

"Hm. I'm not entirely sure that I wouldn't prefer the Shadows to—what is the name of this town, Daddy dearest?"

 

"Smallville."

 

And they drive off into the night.

 


	3. Daddy Dearest

It's a long drive from Gotham to Smallville, Kansas.

 

Jade rides beside him and Artemis sleeps in the back. Jade says nothing to him, but her eyes still speak volumes. Artemis wakes up two or three times, cries for her mother, and then falls back into an uneasy sleep.

 

It's hell.

 

Tears threaten to blur his vision whenever he so much as thinks of Paula's name. Grief tears at his mind like a hungry tiger. He doesn't know how to live without her.

 

He wants to grieve. He wants to scream. He wants to kill and fight and die.

 

But he can't.

 

He can't die.

 

He has his girls to think of.

 

Jade is tough and strong. He _wanted_ her to be strong so that she wouldn't have to be afraid of _anything—_ even him. She's already very good …but not as good as she thinks she is.

 

The Shadows will take her. They will take her and make her into the thing that her mother had fled from. They will make her into a _killer._

 

They will make her like _him_.

 

He will do _anything_ to prevent that.

 

And Artemis… _His_ Artemis. Her training has barely begun, but he can already see her potential. She's going to be good—potentially better than Paula, than Jade … even himself.

 

He can see her stalking the night, killing with every unleashed arrow … her hands stained with the blood of the Shadows' enemies…

 

No.

 

Not that.

 

He will _not_ permit that.

 

If he had someplace safe he could leave the girls, he could go to the Shadows … either to bargain with them or to _force_ them to leave his girls alone …

 

 _Oh, my Lawrence._ He can virtually hear Paula say the words to him. _You are bold indeed, my love. But do not let false pride lead you astray. Not even_ _ **you**_ _can defeat every assassin of the League of Shadows. At least not alone …_

 

He pushes the thought away. No. He will _not_ train his daughters to fight the League of Shadows. He will _not_ make them killers. He will _not_ let the Shadows win.

 

"We're nearly out of gas, daddy dearest."

 

"What?" He blinks and glances over at his oldest.

 

"We're nearly out of gas. There's a truck stop coming up. We should stop."

 

He looks down at the dash and sees that she's right. He also sees the sign about the upcoming truck stop. "All right. We'll get some food too."

 

Jade says nothing.

 

He pulls in. "Artemis, baby, wake up."

 

"Are we there yet?" Artemis rubs the sleep out of her eyes, looking younger than her nine years.

 

"No, baby. It's a pit stop. Go on inside with your sister. I'll be right there."

 

"Wanna stay with you." Artemis yawns.

 

"No, baby. I need you to go with Jade. I'll be right in. I promise."

 

"Come on, Artemis." Jade takes her little sister's hand. "I know daddy dearest isn't the best at keeping promises, but I don't think he's going to desert us just yet."

 

He wants to protest— _needs_ to protest—but he can't.

 

Jade's right.

 

His track record at keeping promises to his girls is lousy.

 

He could use some sleep, but he doesn't dare stop for it. Jade may run away.

 

Or kill him in his sleep.

 

In spite of himself, in spite of his grief, he smiles at the thought.

 

If the Shadows don't get him, Jade just might.

 

He finishes filling the tank up and goes inside to pay. He can remember when truck stops were privately owned— remembers eating more greasy hamburgers than he can count and sleeping in the car as he crisscrossed the county searching for someone—anyone—willing to train him. Those days—like most of his teachers—are gone now.

 

He spots Artemis sitting by herself at the counter, looking at a menu. She's doing her best to look all grown up and mature, and the waitress is smiling at her—a smile that goes a little uneasy when she sees him walk up.

 

He's used to the fear. He's a big guy, and pretty much looks like the bruiser he is. People expect trouble when they see him, and most of the time they're right.

 

He smiles at the waitress and does his best not to look intimidating. "Hey, baby. Did your sister go to the bathroom?"

 

He's uneasy about Jade leaving Artemis alone, but he doesn't think that she'd run away without her little sister.

 

Artemis shrugs. "She went off with some guy."

 

"A boy?" Jade's a teenager now, and has enough of her mother's looks to have no problem attracting boys. He knows that she likes to flirt, but she's not normally so irresponsible as to leave Artemis alone.

 

"No. An old guy. Maybe as old as you."

 

He glances at the waitress who looks away. "I didn't see nothin', mister."

 

"Do you know where they went, baby?"

 

"Towards the back. He said he was a truck driver and wanted to show us his truck. He wanted both of us to go with him, but Jade said to wait here for you." Artemis looks at him. "He was kind of a creep, Dad."

 

"Stay here, baby." A quick look at the waitress's nametag. "Polly here is going to take good care of you while I'm gone. Jade and I'll be right back."

 

He's worried.

 

Artemis is young, but Jade is old enough not to go off with strangers—not to leave her sister alone. Especially with a grown man trying to chat up two children. Why had she done it?

 

 

He heads out back to where the trucks are kept. There's one with an open door. He can see Jade climbing out of the cabin, holding a wad of bills.

 

Did she-? Did he-?

 

He runs over to her. He grabs her by the shoulders. "Did he-?"

 

"Of course not, daddy dearest." She shrugs her away free of his hands. "I knew what he was when I went with him. He didn't touch me. Not the way he wanted to, anyway."

 

He spits out a curse and walks over to the truck, climbing into the cabin.

 

A man—big, fat, but nearly as tall as he is—is slumped over the steering will.

 

"Did you kill him?"

 

He's afraid to check for himself. Afraid of the answer. Afraid of what it means for his daughter.

 

Afraid of what it means for his family.

"No. I just knocked him out and took his money. I don't imagine he's going to say anything to anyone though. By the time he comes to, someone will have checked on him and seen the pictures that he's got in that truck. I don't think he'll be inviting any other girls into his truck anytime soon …"

 

Jade smirks at him.

 

Yesterday he would have climbed into the cabin and killed the man himself. He would have complimented his daughter on what she did, how she handled herself. He would have been _proud._

 

Now … now he's afraid.

 

He knows how quickly death can take away what he loves. He knows what it's like to lose someone. He knows what it's like to be _afraid._

 

But Jade is alive. Jade is alive and she didn't kill. Her hands aren't stained with blood.

 

At least not yet.

 

"All right then. Let's get Artemis and get back on the road."

 

"I thought you wanted to get something to eat, daddy dearest. I'll even pay."

 

"I've lost my appetite. Come on. We've still got a long way to go."

 

He reaches out and touches her shoulder—as much to prove to himself that she's still here—still alive, still _safe—_ as anything else.

 

For a moment—a second—Jade lets him. She looks up into her father's eyes and almost— _almost_ —smiles.

 

For a moment, they're almost a family again.

 

Almost.

 

Jade pushes his hand away. "It's not that easy, Daddy dearest. I'm not Artemis. I _know_ what you are."

 

And then she walks away.

 

 

 


	4. Smallville

They reach the little house on the outskirts of Smallville as the sun starts to rise. Jade is dozing in the front and Artemis is conked out in the back. He's tired himself, but he's been tired before.

 

There's a man and woman standing on the front porch who wave to him as he pulls up. He double checks the address to make sure it's correct; it is. He's suddenly afraid that Malone has played some elaborate joke on him—that this is his idea of humor.

 

If it is, he will hurt Malone. Severely.

 

The man and woman are an older couple. Gray haired and smiling. They look like salt of the earth types.

 

If they know Malone, they're probably scum.

 

He gets out of the car and locks the door behind him. The couple doesn't look like trouble, but they could be anything from metahuman criminals, disguised aliens, or demonic sorcerers. He won't take chances; not with his girls.

 

The man offers his hand. "Jonathan Kent. Mr. Malone said you'd be coming. Thought you'd be another day yet. This is my wife Martha."

 

"Pleased to meet you." Kent's hand is callused, but not in the way a fighter's would be. Strong, though. For his age. "Lawrence Crock." If Malone had told the Kents to expect him, then they probably already knew his real name and giving an alias would be useless.

 

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Crock." Martha looked at his car. "There's some food in the house and we did a little cleaning. No one's lived there since Miss Potter passed on, so it might be different from what you're used to."

 

"It'll be fine." He doesn't want to talk. He wants to be alone. He wants to sleep. He wants to get drunk. He wants to forget that his Paula is gone. "Thank you."

 

The words don't come easily to him. It's been a long time since he had reason to express gratitude.

 

"You're welcome, Lawrence." Martha Kent glanced towards his car. "You want help with your girls?"

 

He wants help. He needs help. He isn't enough.

 

"No. I'll take care of them." He owes them that. He owes Paula that.

 

"I could make breakfast for you," Martha offers. Her eyes are filled with something he's not seen a lot of; sympathy.

 

"No, Martha." Jonathan lays a hand on her arm. "I think we should let Lawrence and his family be. We're across the field, Mr. Crock. The nearest farm house to you. If you need anything, let us know."

 

"Thank you, Mr. Kent."

 

"Jonathan." Kent smiles up at him. "I'm going to call you Lawrence, so you may as well call me Jonathan."

 

"And Martha. It's Martha," Martha Kent adds with a smile. "Skip! Come on, Skip! We need to go!"

 

"Yip! Yip!"

 

A medium dog—a terrier of some kind—with white and brown fur—runs up to Martha and Jonathan Kent.

 

The dog—that dog is familiar somehow. He doesn't know how. He doesn't know why, but he's not entirely sure he likes it.

 

The feeling seems mutual. The dog growls slightly as he looks at him.

 

"Down, boy!" Jonathan offers him an apologetic look. "Come on, Martha. Let's go."

 

"Lawrence, you need anything, you call on us." Martha touches his hand and offers him a smile. "Come on, Skip."

 

The dog growls at him one more time and then trots over to the battered truck that obviously belongs to the Kents. The Kents wave to him one more time and then drive off.

 

Nice couple. Strange that they know Malone.

 

Maybe they run a meth lab.

 

He unlocks the house and checks the interior out before he goes back to the car. It's not a large house, but it's larger than anything he's ever lived in before. The girls can each have their own bedroom. Landline. No obvious bugs.

 

It looks safe.

 

He goes back to the car and unlocks the doors.

 

Jade doesn't stir which is a sign of just how tired she has to be. She has her mother's looks, more so than Artemis. But he can see himself in her chin, in the way she holds herself. Her mother's grace and speed, but his reflexes and balance. She could be a legend.

 

And the Shadows want her.

 

He's read the letters that Paula didn't want him to see. The praise of her teachers, her mentors. The glowing reports about her potential. Paula's old bosses had written her of the importance of making sure that her children had the "proper" upbringing.

 

No.

 

No blood on his daughters' hands.

 

No death.

 

"I promise," he whispers. "I promise it'll be different for you."

 

Jade's eyes snap open. "I've heard that before, Daddy dearest."

 

Memories.

 

Memories of cold beer and dull anger. Frustration. A crying child.

 

His hand itches and he can still remember the shock of that blow. Her eyes wide with … what? Betrayal? Vindication?

 

And memories of his guilt. His shame. Self-loathing.

 

Staring down at his child.

 

And the dull ache of recognition.

 

After all those years—all the times he had sworn otherwise—he had done the one thing that he had promised himself he would never do:

 

He had become his father.

 

That moment lies between them. Everything he says and does. All the promises that he makes.

 

It makes a lie of everything else he's ever tried to be.

 

He can't take that moment back. He can't unmake it. He would die to change it.

 

But he can't.

 

"Get your stuff," he tells her. "We're here. We're home."

 

"Are we, Daddy dearest? You really believe that?"

 

He doesn't answer.

 

"Get your stuff. I'll get Artemis."

 

He wants to believe. He wants to believe he can give his daughters a home. He wants to think he can keep them safe.

 

He just doesn't know how.


	5. Nightmare

 

 

 

_He's dreaming._

 

_He knows he's dreaming because Paula is with him. Paula is with him and they're running across the rooftop again and there's that light in her eyes that only comes from doing totally insanely reckless things. He knows he is dreaming because Paula is with him and he never wants to take up._

 

_Ever._

 

_Paula's eyes start to go wide again like they did last night and she's starting to shout something at him and she's shoving him away with the strength that was always so surprising in her graceful, lithe form._

 

_He tries to fight this time. He tries to stay in place so he can take the bullet—take the bullet that took Paula away from him forever. He fights to stay in place—_

 

_And he fails._

 

_He smashes into the chimney like he did last night. He smashes into it and rolls to his feet and flips to Paula's side to pull her out of the line of fire. He knows it's too late because he knows it's just a dream but he tries anyway._

 

_And Paula is dying again._

 

_"Paula …"_

 

_By rights, she shouldn't have been able to speak—not with that wound. But Paula had always lived by her own rules—and damned if she didn't die by them that way. "Lawrence … the girls. Do not let this be their fate. Promise me. Promise me—"_

 

_"I promise, baby. I'll keep them safe. Just don't leave me. Please don't leave me—"_

 

_"Lawrence …"_

 

_She dies saying his name._

 

_That's how it happened last night. That's how it happened in real life. But this is a dream and it's not over yet._

 

_"Paula …"_

 

_"Mommy can't hear you anymore, Daddy. She's gone to a better place—or a worse, I guess."_

 

_"Jade…"_

 

_She's there in a green and black uniform. He knows that uniform. Knows it and hates it—hates what it means._

 

_"No, baby. No …"_

 

_"Oh come on, Daddy. You know this is who I am. This is what I've always been meant to be. This is what Mommy trained me to be. This is what_ _**you** _ _trained me to be. An assassin. A killer." She slips a white cat's mask—the mask that Paula had given her—onto her face. "A Shadow."_

 

_"No, Jade! No! Not you! Not this! I promised!"_

 

_"Well, we both know how well you do at keeping your promises, Daddy dearest." Jade flips from the roof they're standing on to another. "I have to go now. They're waiting for me."_

 

_"No, Jade! No! I won't lose you too! I_ _**won't** _ _!" He leaps across the roof. "Come back, Jade! Come back!"_

 

_She's always just ahead of him. No matter how hard he tries, no matter how fast he runs, she's just ahead of him … fading away from him … fading into the Shadows …_

 

_And then she's gone._

 

_She's gone and he's alone on a rooftop and there's a body there._

 

_It's not Paula._

 

_It's a cop._

 

_A cop with an arrow driven into his heart and a rifle by his side._

 

_A sniper rifle._

 

_"I got him, Daddy."_

 

_It's not Jade._

 

_"Artemis …"_

 

_His youngest daughter, his little girl, steps out of the darkness with her bow in hand. Her eyes are cold and her face is like the face he sees in the mirror when he comes back from a killing mission. "I got him, Daddy. I got the cop who killed Mommy."_

 

_"Artemis … baby… no…"_

 

_Not her too._

 

_Not his Artemis._

 

_Jade is suddenly beside her._

 

_"Aren't you proud of your girls, Daddy? Aren't we exactly what you and Mommy wanted? We're just like you."_

 

_Artemis slips a mask over her youthful face. It's a goalie's mask._

 

_It's his mask._

 

_"Just like you, Daddy."_

 

_And Artemis holds up her hands, and they're covered with blood …_

 

_"No, baby! NO!"_

 

He's still screaming when he wakes up


	6. A New Day

He wishes he were dead.

 

His Paula is gone and his daughters need so much more than he can give them.

 

It's more than he can face—he's a killer, a hunter, a villain. He's robbed. He's killed. He's done so many terrible things that he can't remember them all.

 

The only good things he's ever done—the only good things he's ever been a part of—are his daughters.

 

And—somehow—he has to do right by them.

 

And he doesn't know _how._

 

And it kills him that he doesn't know _how_.

 

"Why, Paula? You could do this so much better than me. If one of us had to die last night, why didn't you let it be me?"

 

He doesn't want to get up. He doesn't want to leave this bed. He wants so badly to die that he can taste it like water to a man dying of thirst.

 

"Daddy?"

 

Artemis is looking at him from the doorway. In his mind's eye, he can still see her hands stained with blood … "Are you okay, Daddy? I heard you screaming …"

 

"I'm fine, baby." He's not fine. He'll never be fine again but he can't tell her that. "I just had a nightmare. Have you had breakfast yet?"

 

"No. But there's oatmeal. Can I have oatmeal?"

 

He laughs at the eagerness in her voice. "Yes, baby. You can have oatmeal." He forces himself to sit up and his jaw aches as he fakes a smile on his lips. "Let me see what we've got to eat."

 

Artemis comes over and grabs his hand to help him out of the bed, and he has to force himself not to cry again. How long had it been since his youngest daughter—since either daughter?—had felt safe in touching him? When did he become such a monster that it was no longer _safe_ for him to _allow_ them to touch him?

 

Artemis leads him into the kitchen where Jade is already up and dressed for the day. She's wearing a Disney shirt with a disappearing cat on it and she's scrambling some eggs. "Artemis, drink your orange juice."

 

"Yes, Jade." Artemis sits down in a chair and gestures for him to sit down as well.

 

He does so.

 

"There's more juice in the refrigerator. The toast will be ready soon."

 

"I want oatmeal!" Artemis pipes up. "Daddy said I could have oatmeal!"

 

"Then he had better make it. As soon as you're fed I'm going to go out and check this town out."

 

"Drink your juice, baby. I'll make your oatmeal." He gets up and finds the oatmeal—the real kind, he's pleased to see—and checks the fridge for some milk. "I used to make Jade oatmeal all the time. And eggs too. In fact, I taught her how to scramble eggs."

 

"It's not rocket science," Jade replies softly, not looking at him.

 

"Mom never really liked to cook," Artemis says softly. "She always had Jade fix me breakfast."

 

He winces slightly at the thought. How many times had they put Jade in charge of Artemis? Made her look after her little sister while they ran off on some caper? "Jade always takes real good care of you, baby."

 

"Yes. _I_ do." Jade picks up a plate and put some eggs on it. "Eat your eggs, Artemis."

 

"Go on, baby," he tells his youngest. "Just save some room for your oatmeal."

 

While the oatmeal is cooking, he pours himself a glass of orange juice and drinks it. "Back when you were little, Artemis, I used to make breakfast with Jade all the time."

 

And he had.

 

Paula had never really liked to cook— if they didn't have a microwave, she would eat out or depend entirely on him to do the cooking. She could kill a man with a butter knife, but she could barely use it as it was intended.

 

"Do you remember, Jade?"

 

He remembers. He remembers those moments, creeping out of bed while his wife slept, going to Jade's room. The two of them would sneak stealthily out and make breakfast as quietly as they could—barely speaking though Jade had giggled a lot as he held her in his arms, teaching her how to scramble the eggs just so—and then carrying the tray in to Paula to feed his wife breakfast in bed.

 

Those moments were the closest he had ever come to feeling like he was _almost_ a good father.

 

"I remember," Jade says softly.

 

She looks at him for a moment, and he can almost see something other than disdain in her eyes. She's _almost_ his little girl again …

 

"Sit down, Jade," he says softly. "Sit down with your sister. I'll finish making breakfast."

 

_Please._

 

He doesn't say the word because it doesn't come easily to him, but he tries to show her with his face, with his eyes.

 

_I'll be better, Jade. I promise. You don't have to give up any more of your childhood. Let me try to be a good father, Jade._ _**Please.** _

 

"Sit with me, Jade." Artemis reaches over and grabs her big sister's hand and pulls her down to a chair. "Sit with me

 

For a moment, Jade seems inclined to fight off her little sister, to walk out the door on them both, but then she slumps into the chair as though she's lost a fight and lays her head down on the table.

 

It's not a surrender. It's not acceptance. He's fought too many battles—had too many arguments with her mother—to know that.

 

But it's a start, and he'll take it.

 

And for the first time since he lost Paula, he feels something like _hope._


	7. Tiger Cub

Jade is quiet through the rest of breakfast, but she does eat. When it's over, she gets up. "I'm going to go check out the town. Want to come with me, Artemis?"

 

"I want to stay with Daddy."

 

 _Something_ flashes in Jade's eyes at those words, but she shrugs and picks up her jacket. "Suit yourself, kiddo."

 

He wants to forbid her to go because he's afraid to let her out of his sight. Afraid that something— _anything-_ could happen to her if he's not there to keep an eye on her. Afraid that she won't come back …

 

But no. She won't leave Artemis. He has to believe that.

 

And he has to give her trust if he wants it in return.

 

"Jade?"

 

She looks at him, ready for a fight.

  
"Try to be back before dark, okay?"

 

She shrugs again. "Whatever. Keep Daddy Dearest out of trouble, kiddo. I'll be back."

 

There's an uncomfortable silence after she leaves that Artemis finally breaks. "Let's do the dishes, Daddy. I'll help you."

 

They wash the dishes and Artemis tells him about her last school. She talks about much she likes science and hates English. She talks about the girls who were her friends and the ones that she didn't like. She talks about how she really wants to have a puppy or kitten someday.

 

And he's amazed at how _chatty_ his daughter is when she isn't scared to death of him. He's astonished that his baby girl he remembers so clearly tottering around on toddler legs is now such a bright and animated child—she seems so _alive_ and _happy_. She has such simple but _beautiful_ dreams.

 

And he wonders if Paula had seen this side of her daughter.

 

"Artemis," he says when they've dried the dishes and put them away, "what do you want to be when you grow up?"

 

Her answer chills him.

 

"I want to be like you, Daddy."

 

_Blood on his baby girl's hands …_

 

"No!" he screams.

 

And Artemis flinches back from him in fear.

 

"Artemis!" He hugs her stiff, frightened little body to him. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm so sorry …"

 

He's sorry for everything. Sorry for all the ways that he's failed her. Failed Jade. Sorry that he doesn't know how to keep from _terrifying_ his daughter.

 

And he's crying … crying because he's let her down … let _Paula_ down ... again.

 

Her little hands go around his neck. "It's okay, Daddy. It's okay …"

 

They hold each other for a long time before he finally finds words again. "I mean … what do you want to do with your life? You can be anything you want, baby. You can be a doctor or a teacher or a scientist or _anything_. What do you think would make you happy?"

 

She shrugs, and he's aware that she's thinking harder than any little girl should ever have to about this. "I just want to be with you and Jade. I even have a name and outfit picked out. Do you want to see it?"

 

"Sure, baby."

 

She dashes back to her room and comes back with a picture that she's oh so carefully drawn and colored.

 

They're all there in the picture: Paula, Jade, Artemis and himself.

 

Paula is in her Huntress outfit and Jade is in a black and green outfit wearing the cat's mask her mother had given her. Jade is standing beside Paula, and Paula is standing beside him. He's also in his working clothes, and beside him is a little blonde girl in an outfit just like his, but her outfit is striped, and she is wearing cat ears as well as a hockey mask.

 

There's a full moon in the sky and they're on a rooftop.

 

"Mom said I was always going to be her little tiger cub, so that's what I thought I'd call myself."

 

"Tiger Cub?"

 

"No, silly. Tiger." She frowns. "Or maybe Tigress …"

 

"It's a beautiful picture, baby."

 

And in a way, it is. It's a picture of his family. For a moment, he almost allows himself to wonder it would be like to be living the Life with his girls, facing down the Capes with his daughters at his side …

 

They could be _great._ He knows that.

 

But that way … that way is _bloody_. And it ends in death.

 

Death on a rooftop.

 

 _Blood on his hands. He's had bloody hands before—more times than he can count. But this blood is different. This blood horrifies him. This blood is_ _ **Paula's**_ …

 

_Not again. Never again. He could not live through it again—could not bear to have_ _**Jade's** _ _blood on his hands … or_ _**Artemis's** _ _…_

 

_Never again._

 

"Artemis, it's a beautiful picture. And you would make an incredible Tigress or even a Tiger Cub." He wants to say this in a way that doesn't frighten her. "But … I don't want you and Jade to follow me or your mother into the Life."

 

"But you always said we would…"

 

"I know, baby girl. I know. But … I was wrong." His father must be rolling over in his grave right now. The old man would never admit to being wrong. Would have beaten him bloody for saying those words. "The Life … it's not good. I don't want that for you or your sister. I want you to have something _better._ "

 

"I don't understand, Daddy."

 

"I know, baby. I didn't understand either. And I didn't until it was too late for your mother—"

 

"But, Daddy … if we aren't going to be in The Life… what are we going to do?"

 

The answer hurts him as it has since he made his promise to Paula. "I don't know, baby girl. I don't know …"

 


	8. One Dad To Another

Neither of them really knows what to say after that—neither of them knows how to follow up those moments of honesty—so they both fall gratefully back on old habits. When Artemis suggests that she'd like to practice her archery, he eagerly agrees. Words—words like the ones they'd just shared—are so much harder than action.

 

They walk out into the Kansas sun and he sets up the gear. Not just a stationary target—oh, no, not for _his_ girl—but also skeet launchers and a target guarded by spinning blades that'd she'd have to fire through to hit her target. Not just standard arrows, but arrows equipped with flares and nets and stunning tips—arrows that _aren't_ perfectly balanced so she can learn how to compensate. And a jury-rigged obstacle course so she can practice firing while in motion.

 

It's hard work. A challenging course. In the past, he's made her run it time and again, run it until her hands blistered from the arrows she unleashed, her knees were scraped raw from falling, and her feet were bloody. He made her run it until Jade threatened to kill him if he didn't let her stop.

 

He hates himself for that. He hated himself for that then, but he had thought that it was necessary. His girls needed to be tough, his girls needed to be _strong._ He wanted them to be _strong_ so they would survive _anything._

 

Now … now watching her, he's torn between pride at her accomplishments and shame over how he had taught her. No wonder Jades him; no wonder Artemis fears him.

 

How can a man who could do _that_ ever hope to do the right thing? How could he save his daughters from the life that he had spent years preparing them for?

 

Artemis runs through the course three times before he finally makes her stop long enough to drink some water and take a break. He checks her hands over, seeing the calluses that now protect her hands from damage. "You don't have to do this, baby. You can stop anytime you want."

 

 

"No. I can't."

 

"Why not?"

 

She looks at him with a lopsided smile that makes him ache with pride and recognition. "Because I'm not the best yet."

 

"Yip! Yip!"

 

He pushes Artemis behind him without thinking and grabs an arrow to use as an impromptu weapon.

 

The dog looks at him quizzically and then wags its tail.

 

Artemis laughs. "It's Skip!" She drops her bow and kneels down to hug the dog which enthusiastically licks her face. "Good boy! Good boy!"

 

"Hope you don't mind, Lawrence, but Skip needed a walk." Jonathan Kent is carrying a picnic basket. "And Martha wanted me to drop off an apple pie."

 

"Hello, Mr. Kent." He seldom calls anyone "mister" and means it, but he finds himself feeling strangely respectful to this quiet farmer. He's not a fighter, but there's _something_ about him.

 

"Jonathan," the old man says with a smile. "The only people who call me 'mister' are trying to sell me something. Hello, Artemis."

 

"Hi," Artemis shyly looks away from the farmer and offers a one handed wave.

 

"Looks like you two have been busy. Artemis, would you mind terribly taking Skip on his walk? I'm sure he'd much rather run with you than dawdle along with me."

 

Artemis looks so hopeful, so excited, that he can't find it in him to refuse. "Be back soon, baby. And be careful."

 

"I will. Come on, Skip!"

 

"Yip! Yip!" Tail wagging, the odd little dog follows Artemis into the field.

 

"Don't worry, Lawrence. She'll be perfectly safe with Skip. He wouldn't let anything happen to her."

 

"She knows how to take care of herself."

 

Even so, he finds himself anxiously watching her fade into the distance.

 

"Where's your other girl, Lawrence?"

 

"Jade? She wanted to take a look around."

 

"That won't take her long. There's not much to see here in Smallville."

 

"That's good." He feels strange. He doesn't know how to talk to people—not _normal_ people. "Jonathan, would you like a piece of this pie?"

 

Jonathan chuckles. "Long as you don't tell Martha, I'd love it."

 

"Your secret's safe with me." He grins at the smaller man. "Come on. Let's go inside." He leads the older man into the house. "Sorry I don't have any beer…"

 

"That's all right, Lawrence. It's a little early for me. I'll take coffee or Lemonade if you have it."

 

"Sure thing." He pours two cups of coffee from the morning pot and hands one to Jonathan. "Sugar?"

 

The old man grins for a second. "Well, I'm already being bad with the pie … what the heck. In for a penny, in for a pound."

 

The pie is awfully good, and it's quite possibly the first homemade pie he's ever had in his life. He finds himself envying the old man for the life that he's had—for still having his wife with him.

 

He sits his fork down and shuts his eyes for a moment. He looks at the old man for a moment, and then turns away. He's never cried in front of another man before, let alone a stranger, but the grief comes over him again like a tidal wave and he's helpless before it.

 

He cries.

 

For a moment, there's silence, and then he feels a strong hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jonathan."

 

"For crying? No shame in a man grieving over what he's lost—and from what Mr. Malone told me, you've lost a lot, son. Do you want to be alone?"

 

"Yes." He's grateful for Jonathan's kindness, but he doesn't want anyone to see what losing Paula has done to him. He has to be _strong. Strong_ enough to keep his girls safe.

 

"All right. You can just tell Skip to come home when you need him to go. He'll find his way back."

 

"Thank you."

 

"Lawrence?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"Your girls. You have some awfully special girls. I can tell they're really something. You should be proud of them."

 

"I am."

 

"They need you, Lawrence."

 

"Paula—their mother—she could have handled this so much better. I just … just don't know if I can do this."

 

"You can. You will. Because they're your girls, and they need you."

 

"Their mother—""

 

"Isn't here. You love your girls, Lawrence. I can see that. Just make sure they know that."

 

"I'm not a good man, Jonathan.  I've been a lousy father. How do I fix that? How do I take care of my girls? How do I make things _better_ when I've spent their entire lives screwing up?"

 

"By being honest with them. By being honest with yourself. You love your daughters, Lawrence. Don't be afraid of that—don't be afraid to show that. Don't be afraid to tell them that. More than anything else, that's what they want from you. That's what they need." Jonathan walks over to the door and looks back at him. "You can't change the past, Lawrence. You can only live with it. But the future? The future you _can_ change. Don't let the past take that away from you—or your girls."

 

And with that, Jonathan Kent walks out the door.

 


	9. Jade

It's nearly sunset before Jade comes back.

 

He'd started to worry, but hadn't wanted to show it to Artemis. To distract her—and himself—he'd made dinner—a big pot of chili that Artemis had helped him with.

 

Jade is wearing a Smallville High Letterman jacket with the name ROSS sewn onto it when she gets back. She looks at him challengingly as she sits down at the table. "Okay. This is pretty much a one horse town. The kids' idea of excitement here is watching planes take off from the county airport. There is a bank we could rob if we get bored enough though."

 

"We're not here to rob the bank." He wants to ask her about the jacket—wants to ask her what's going on in her head right now—but he can't find the words. "Have something to eat."

 

"It's chili! I helped!" Artemis is practically bouncing up and down as she grabs a bowl and pours a serving out for her big sister.

 

"You did, did you?" Jade's voice is soft. She doesn't look at Artemis. "Did you have a good time, kiddo?"

 

"Oh yes. And I spent the day playing with Mr. Kent's dog, Skip! He's such a smart dog! He seems to understand everything I say! And he really seemed to like me!"

 

"Well isn't that just great?" She glances over at her father and he doesn't like the look in her eyes. "And of course he loves you 'cause everyone loves Artemis."

 

"Jade?" Her words sting him for some reason he can't quite understand—he doesn't _want_ to understand them. His instincts, honed by decades of battle, tell him that something is going on with his oldest. Something dangerous. And he doesn't know how to ask…

 

He doesn't _deserve_ to ask.

 

They eat in silence.

 

When it's over, Artemis pesters Jade with questions about how she's spent her day, where she got the jacket, and if she'll take her out to see the town tomorrow. She's talking a lot, trying to fill in the silence between her father and sister.

 

Jade gives her one word replies when she replies at all. Finally, she glances at the clock and said, "Turn the TV on, kiddo. It's time for the show."

 

"The show?" Artemis's face lights up with the biggest smile that he's seen on it since he came home without her mother. "You mean we can watch it tonight? You'll watch it with me?"

 

"Yes, kiddo," and Jade gives her a slight smile. "I'll watch it with you."

 

It's some cartoon show from the 1980s that's playing on Cartoon network called _Captain Carrot and his Amazing Zoo Crew_ and it's the most absurd thing he's ever seen. (A super hero rabbit that gets his powers from carrots? _Really?_ ) If his daughters had to watch a show about a rabbit, why couldn't it be Bugs Bunny …?

 

But after a moment, he stops watching it entirely because he finds himself watching his daughters. Watching his girls.

 

Artemis is snuggled up against her big sister, and Jade has her arms around her, and it's like they're the only two people in the world. Artemis occasionally says a word or two about how many times they've seen this show, what they were doing the last time they saw this particular episode, how silly Dr. Hoot is and how Frogzilla is her favorite villain ever …

 

And Jade is watching her. Her arms are around her little sister and she holds her as though she will keep her safe against anything that the world might throw at her. It's the closest thing to a tender moment he's seen from Jade in years …

 

And it _hurts_.

 

It huts because it's something that he can never share with them. A bond that he will never have. A closeness forged from having years where they could only depend on each other …

 

And it hurts because he knows that his failure as a parent is the reason they have had only each other to count on.

 

Artemis finally falls asleep in Jade's arms.

 

"I'll take her," he offers to his oldest.

 

" _No._ I'll do it. I've tucked her in more times than you and mother combined." The words are spoken in a whisper, but he still flinches as though she's unexpectedly shouted at him.

 

Artemis stirs fitfully.

 

"It's okay, kiddo. Just keep on dreaming about Rodney and Felina. Everything will be fine in the morning." As strong as Jade is, it's no easy thing for her to get up and carry her sister, but she glares at him every time he silently offers to help.

 

He watches Jade put Artemis into bed, pull the blankets up, and give her little sister a kiss on the forehead.

 

Jade is nearly as quiet as her mother as she leaves her sister's bedroom. She doesn't look at him; it's as though he doesn't exist to her. She looks around the small kitchen and then opens the door and goes outside.

 

He follows her out and they stand silently together and look up at the night sky.

 

"So many stars," she murmurs.

 

"Yeah."

 

"We have night in Gotham, but we never have the stars."

 

"No. No stars there." He's silent for a moment, trying desperately to find something to say to his oldest, to find some way to reach out to her. "You remember when your mother and I took you out into the mountains to learn how to read the stars to find your way in the dark? You weren't any older than Artemis …"

 

"No. And Mother slapped me every time I got something wrong. And you let her."

 

He flinches again, his cheeks hot with shame. "It was important; Jade … We wanted you to be able to take care of yourself …"

 

The words sound small, childish, even petty, but they're all he has.

 

"At eight. You wanted a self-sufficient eight year old."

 

"Jade …"

 

"Why wasn't I good enough, Daddy dearest?"

 

"Jade?"

 

"It's always been Artemis for you. When you'd get back from a mission, the first thing you'd do is see how she was doing. I'd watch you sneak into our room and check on her as she slept. You spent more time training her than you ever did me. And now … now when you're trying to do God knows what… _reform?_ You're trying to be super dad … _doting_ on her. Trying to take her away from me …

 

"I've always taken care of Artemis, Daddy. When you and Mother were gone for days at a time, who do you think fed her? Cleaned her clothes? Kept her safe in the crappy apartments we lived in? I was more of a parent to her than you and Mother ever were—more than you ever were to _me._ "

 

Jade sobs softly.

 

He can barely hear it, but it's there. He hears it, and his heart breaks a bit more …

 

"Why wasn't I good enough, Daddy? Why didn't you check on _me?_ Why didn't you take care of _me?_ Why wasn't I good enough for you to be like this when I was younger—when I _needed_ you to be like this? Why don't you love _me_ as much as you love Artemis?"

 

And she runs into the house.

 

He falls.

 

His legs literally fail to support him.

 

"You bastard," he whispers to himself.

 

He hits himself. Hard. Harder than even Batman has ever hit him.

 

It hurts, but he deserves the pain.

 

"You stupid bastard," he beats his fists against the ground. "You're him. You turned into _him_. _I_ became him. I turned into Dad."

 

He forces himself to get to his feet and stumbles to the door. His heart literally _hurts_ from what he's feeling. He never imagined that _feelings_ could cause so much pain until he lost Paula … and this pain seems even _worse_ because he knows that he _deserves_ it.

 

He goes into Jade's room. She's lying on her bed, covered by her blankets, her back turned to him.

 

"I _did_ check on you, Jade. Every time I got back, I checked on you. You were so much harder to sneak up on than Artemis I had to give it more time. But I always made sure you were safe before I went to bed. And when you were born … when you were born, I tried to go straight. Paula said it wouldn't work, but she let me try … and then … and then I screwed up. I _hit_ you, Jade. I _hurt_ you. I swore I would never do that. I swore I would never be like my father. And I knew that I had to make sure that no one could ever hurt you again. Not even me …

 

"I do love you just as much as I love Artemis, Jade. No one will ever take your place. You'll always be my little girl …"

 

Jade does not move. Does not react. Something about that silence, that lack of motion …

 

He goes over and pulls the sheets back …

 

Jade isn't there. It's just a combination of pillows and blanket and clothing cunningly placed to resemble a rough human body.

 

Jade isn't there, but there's a note.

 

He turns on the light and reads the note; his heart pounding like someone's taking a sledgehammer to his chest.

 

 

_Daddy Dearest,_

_By the time you read this I'll be gone. I called the League of Shadows this afternoon and made a deal. They'll leave you and Artemis alone so long as I join them now. Tell Artemis that it's for the best. She still has a chance. You and I both know that I don't. It's too late for me … but not for her._

 

_Don't screw this up._

 

_Jade._

 

 

 


	10. DON'T MAKE MY MISTAKES

Jade is gone.

 

The words echo through his brain like a hammer blow to his skull. Three of them:

 

Jade. Is. Gone.

 

He fights down the panic, the fear, the guilt. He can't afford those feelings. Not now. He has to _think_.

 

He didn't hear a car before he went back inside, so no one picked her up. She was on foot. She wouldn't be on the road—he had taught her better than that—so he couldn't just get in the car and follow her. Tracking her at night—with no clue as to which direction she'd gone—would be useless.

 

That airport. She had mentioned a county airport. If the Shadows were going to pick her up, they'd do it there.

 

He didn't know where it was. He didn't know when Jade had spoken to them.

 

He doesn't know how long he has to find her before its too late.

 

"Artemis! Baby, wake up! We gotta go! Get ready now!" He goes to his bedroom and suits up. His gear. The clothes that he had thought he would never wear again.

 

He had to be ready. If the Shadows had her, he had to be ready.

 

They are _not_ taking his daughter. That is not an option. He will not lose Jade—he will not let her be taken from him. He was too late for Paula—he will not be too late for Jade.

 

By the time he's dressed and out the door, Artemis is already waiting for him with a small bag in hand. "Daddy, where's Jade? I can't find her anywhere!"

 

He sees the tears, the fear, in his baby girl's eyes and he swears to himself that he won't let her down. "It's okay, baby. Jade just went out without permission and I have to make sure she's okay."

 

"Is that why you're wearing your uniform? I should go with you! You need someone to watch your back!"

 

"No!" He roars the word, then kneels down and gives her a quick hug and picks her up. "No, baby. I have to know you're safe so I can concentrate on finding Jade. We're going to the Kents. You be a good girl while I'm gone, and when I get back with Jade …" He trails off.

 

"What, Daddy? When you get back with Jade what'll we do?"

 

"I'll think of something. Come on, baby." He carries Artemis to the car and puts her in the seat beside him. "Just hope their place isn't hard to find."

 

It's not.

 

He's honking his car horn as soon as he enters the driveway. It's a risk to trust them—a risk to trust _anyone_ —but he doesn't have a choice.

 

Skip is barking up a storm as they reach the door. Jonathan Kent is standing on the porch in a bathrobe. Martha Kent is just inside the door, stifling a yawn with her hand. "Lawrence …?"

 

"Jonathan, I need your help. I need for you to watch Artemis. And to tell me how to get to the county airport. Jade's—I have to find her."

 

"Daddy …?" Artemis blinks sleepy eyes in confusion and fear.

 

Martha Kent opens the door and walks over to the car door. "Hello, honey. I'm sure your daddy is going to find Jade, but why don't you come inside? I have some chocolate cake. You and I can have a piece."

 

Artemis gives her father another look, and then opens the door. She takes the older woman's hand and walks onto the porch. When she nears the dog, she wraps her arms around Skip and begins crying.

 

The dog licks her face and for a moment seems to be glaring at him with a faint hint of red in its eye …

 

"I'll be back, Artemis. We both will!" It's dangerous to make a promise like that but he can't help himself. He turns back to Jonathan Kent. "Please, Jonathan. Help me."

 

Jonathan gives him the directions to the county airport. "I could call the sheriff. He could keep Jade from leaving …"

 

He barks out a laugh at the idea of a small town sheriff being able to force his daughter to do _anything_. "No, Jonathan. That's not a good idea. I'll be back as soon as I can."

 

"Be careful, Lawrence."

 

"Thank you." He reaches out and shakes the older man's hand. "Thank you for—everything."

 

Jonathan Kent nods once, and then steps back.

 

He slams the accelerator down and drives off into the darkness. "I'm coming for you, Jade. I'm not going to screw it up. Not _this_ time."

 

He reaches the county airport and is out of the car almost before it stops. "Jade! Jade!"

 

She's near a landing strip—well, _the_ landing strip. She's holding a small bag, and when she turns to see him her face has such a look of surprise on it he almost laughs. "What are _you_ doing here?"

 

"I'm here to take you home, Jade. Where you belong."

 

"I don't have a home. I never have. No home. No real family. You made sure of that. _This_ is all I have left. This is what I was meant to be."

 

"No it isn't. No it's not." He grabs her by the shoulders—a movement that she's too surprised to counter but he knows that he only has moments so he presses his advantage. "You're right. I'm a bad man. A worse father. I screwed up, Jade. I've screwed up all your life. And I'll probably do more in the future."

 

A small personal jet is coming in for a landing.

 

"But you're not me, Jade. You're not your mother. You are more than we shaped you to be. You don't have to do this! You can be anyone, anything. You don't have to be a killer! You can be more than _that_ , little girl. Don't make my mistakes, Jade.

 

"Come home, Jade. Come home to your sister. Come home to your _family_. Where you belong."

 

He has no more words left. His heart in his throat, he lets her go and opens his arms.

 

"Daddy…"

 

Her eyes are filled with tears and she looks at him like she's never seen him before. Like she's never known him before. Almost in spite of herself, she opens her arms and moves toward him …

 

"Well, well. Isn't this interesting? Now I see why the Shadows were willing to pay my fee just to have me pick up a new recruit."

 

He looks over and sees that the plane landed while he was having his talk with Jade and he curses himself for being too slow. He curses even more when he sees who just spoke. "Wilson."

 

"Crock."

 

"You can't have my daughter, Deathstroke." He shoves Jade behind him and draws his lance. "Leave."

 

Deathstroke, also called the Terminator, draws his blade. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Sportsmaster. I have a contract. You understand."

 

"I suppose I do."

 

"For what it's worth, I'm a father too. I would do the same. It's just too bad I have to kill you in front of your girl."

 

"Talk's cheap."

 

"So I've heard."

 

And then—almost faster than the eye can follow—Deathstroke attacks.

 

 


	11. Deathstroked

In a way, fighting for his life is a relief.

 

He doesn't have to second guess himself. Doesn't have time for regrets. It's simple, basic, and immediate. He's smiling.

 

Deathstroke is good … superhumanly good. His speed is a blur; his strength is more than human. He's a cold-stone killer.

 

But he's fought stronger men than Deathstroke. He's fought faster. He's used to it. The rhythm, the anticipation, the need to flow with blows that he can't counter, strength he can't match … it's like coming home.

 

Deathstroke's mask completely covers his face, but there's a slight change in the shape of it that makes it plain that he's surprised. "What, you think it'd be easy just because I'm nothing but a man, 'Stroke?"

 

Deathstroke grunts in reply.

 

He laughs then. A slow, taunting laugh. "I thought so." He risks a glance out of the corner of his eye for Jade. He's pleased that she's not trying to jump into the fight, not doing anything to distract him from this fight. She's watching, and he knows if she spots an opening she'll try to take 'Stroke down.

 

Deathstroke's been in the business a long time … rumor has it he was amped up by a government "super soldier" experiment. Talk is that he's gotten the best of the Bat once or twice, but then talk used to say that _he_ made Green Arrow cry like a baby once …

 

'Stroke has the edge on speed and strength, and he's good … but he's sloppy too. He's used to his power carrying the day for him. He's also used to fighting heroes … people who _don't_ , who _haven't_ , killed.

 

That's not who _he_ is.

 

It's going to be close, though, and he's not entirely sure he's going to win.

 

He's got the skill to counter 'Stroke's power, but he is _human_ after all, and the longer the fight lasts, the more likely it is that 'Stroke's inhuman endurance will get him the victory.

 

And the longer it lasts, the more likely it is that the Shadows will send in reinforcements.

 

His lance is lighter than Deathstroke's blade, but it's as tough as an obscene amount of money can buy. A present from Paula. He wonders briefly if she ever knew that he'd be using it to protect their daughter instead of pull off a job, but he doesn't have time to daydream as 'Stroke gets closer and closer to breaking through his defenses.

 

"You can't win, Crock. I'm better than you are. Better than you'll ever be." It might have been his imagination, but it sounded like 'Stroke was breathing hard through his mask. Tight as the damn thing was, it couldn't be great for breathing through.

 

"Then why am I still here, 'Stroke?" He laughs again. "Man, I'm glad your kids aren't here to see me kill _you._ "

 

Deathstroke snarls and pulls back, tossing his blade—at _Jade_ \- while simultaneously drawing a knife and charging him.

 

"Jade!"

 

He leaps forward to knock the blade off trajectory so it doesn't hit Jade while hoping that his body armor will be enough to keep the knife from going in.

 

And it _almost_ is.

 

He feels the knife go into his back, but he manages to deflect the sword so it doesn't strike Jade.

 

 

"Daddy!"

 

He lands _hard_ and try as he might, he's not able to get to his feet.

 

"Jade! Run!"

 

Jade does run—but towards _him_ , not away. She grabs his lance and spins on Deathstroke. "Stay away from him!"

 

'Stroke has retrieved his blade and he's walking back to them with an almost leisurely pace. "Go, girl. I'll find you, but run now. You shouldn't have to watch your old man die."

 

"Jade, _run_!" He pushes himself up. "Leave her alone, Wilson. We're not done yet."

 

"We will be in a moment, Crock. You surprised me by how well you held out. I didn't expect to have to actually threaten your girl. The Shadows would have been furious at me if she actually came to harm, but I thought you might just be willing to risk it. I respect a man who puts his kids first, Crock."

 

"Stay away from him!" Jade screams again. She charges with the lance.

 

"Oh, please." 'Stroke moves his blade to counter Jade's charge in almost a lazy manner, but Jade leaps over him and strikes out with the lance, hitting 'Stroke in the shoulder. If not for his body armor, if not for his reflexes that allowed him to move just _enough_ … it would have been a killing blow.

 

"Leave or die!" Jade's eyes are furious. Her lovely, girlish face settles into a mask of determination.

 

She has never looked more like her mother in her entire life.

 

"You hurt me, girl!"

 

Slade lashes out with his blade again and again.

 

Jade counters the first strike; the second slices her shirt open, leaving a thin trail of blood.

 

"You're good, girl. But you're just a child. You're no match for your father, let alone _me_."

 

He reaches into his shirt and pulls out a baseball. His lucky baseball. The one he used to practice with for _hours_ as a kid. Pitching it again and again …

 

The blade moves again and Jade counters.

 

Again, and Jade counters.

 

"I'd hate to have to mess that pretty face of yours up, girl, but I will if I have to…"

 

He forces himself to breathe, to calm himself, to focus. To wait for the right moment.

 

He pulls back the ball …

 

And he prays.

 

And he throws.

 

The ball flies through the air as fast and hard as he's ever thrown.

 

And it strikes Deathstroke in the head—on the blind side of his head—and he goes down like a puppet with cut strings.

 

For a moment, Jade stares at him, then she grabs his sword and pulls it back to strike…

 

"Jade, no!"

 

He stretches his hands out to her, pleading. "No, baby. Don't …"

 

_Don't become me._

 

For a second, she hesitates ….

 

And Deathstroke grabs her leg and pulls her down. He slams her head down _hard_ against the ground.

 

She twitches, then moans, tries feebly to get up.

 

"Jade!" He looks about for a rock … for _something_ to throw at 'Stroke.

 

"She's alive, Crock. She's going to live through this. Its cost me too much trouble to come back without her now. You, on the other hand, have gotten on my nerves." 'Stroke rises to his feet and picks up his sword. "Maybe your girl will be more tractable when she seems me carrying your head."

 

He takes a step forward … and an arrow whistles through the air and buries itself in his hand. A second hits his left leg.

 

"Stay away from my family!"

 

_Artemis._

 

She's wearing her workout clothes. And a mask … _his_ mask. She's holding her bow, and there's an arrow that's pointing at 'Stroke's heart.

 

And the Kents' dog, Skip, is at her feet, barking furiously at Deathstroke.

 

Deathstroke laughs, but it's an ugly sound. "You have one hell of a family, Crock, but I'm done. The contract doesn't say anything about your youngest, but I have a feeling she's going to make an awfully good assassin … once she's learned her manners. Maybe I'll keep her myself."

 

'Stroke tosses _something_ through the air and it strikes Artemis's bow, cutting the string. She cries out as the bow strikes her on the side of the face and falls to her knees. She glares over at Deathstroke.

 

"Your sister's unconscious. Your dad's got a knife in his back. Your bow's gone. What are you going to do now, little girl?"

 

Artemis looks at him and wipes blood from her face. "Just this. Skip, get him!"

 

"Yip! Yip!"

 

Deathstroke barely has time to laugh again before the little dog is upon him, his white legs moving so fast that it looks like he's _flying_ and he strikes the assassin in the gut and then the two of them really _are_ flying and they smash through the side of the jet that had brought Deathstroke.

 

There's another thud, and then Skip hops out of the plane and runs back to Artemis, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

 

"Good boy, Skip. Good boy." Artemis kneels down and hugs the dog briefly. "Thank you." She runs over to Jade and helps her big sister to her feet. "Come on, Jade. We have to go. They're sure to find us."

 

"H-how did you get here?" Jade asked her, leaning heavily on her little sister as they stumble back to their father.

 

"Skip brought me." Artemis holds her hand out to her father. "Daddy, come on. Get up. We have to go now before someone else shows up."

 

"I can't, baby," he says softly. "I can't."

 

Despite her own pain, Jade looks into his face with alarm. "Daddy, what's wrong? Why can't you get up?"

 

"I can't feel my legs, Jade. I can't feel my legs …"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So any guesses as to Skip's true identity? :D


	12. "We're a family."

 

Jade falls apart.

 

He's never seen this side of his oldest. He's never seen her emotions writ so plainly on her face, her green eyes filled with grief and guilt. "Daddy, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry—" She says it over and over again, rocking herself at his side, too afraid to touch him.

 

"Jade, it's okay. It's okay." It's not okay. He can't protect them now. He'll only slow them down. "Jade, I need you to listen to me now."

 

She looks at him.

 

"Take your sister, Jade. Take your sister and the car and the money, and run. Run, little girl. Run as fast as you can and don't look back. Don't ever look back."

 

"Run? Leave you? Leave you like _this?_ I can't, Daddy. I can't!" She lays her head down on his shoulder. "I can't lose you too…"

 

"No, Daddy." It's Artemis who speaks. She hugs the dog Skip again. "Get help, Skip. Get help now!"

 

The dog looks at her, cocks his face, licks her cheek, and then takes off. "Yip! Yip!"

 

"We can't leave you, Daddy. We won't. We're Crocks. We're a family. We stick together." Artemis takes the mask off her face— _his_ mask off her face—and he's started by the look of maturity on her face. "We're a family."

 

"Artemis, Jade, listen to me. I can't protect you now. I'll slow you down. The Shadows are going to keep coming after you. I can't put you at risk. I won't. You have to go now …"

 

Jade wipes the tears from her face and hugs her sister to her. "No, Daddy. Artemis is right. We're a family. No matter what else we are, we're a family and families belong together. I forgot that for a while, but I remember now."

 

"You should listen to your daughters, Sportsmaster."

 

He knows that voice. Normally, it would cause his stomach to sink down into his shoes, but for once he feels something not unlike hope. His girls will be safe.

 

Superman is here.

 

His girls will be safe, and that's all that matters.

 

"You're Superman." The look of maturity has fallen from Artemis's face. Her eyes are wide with wonder as she watches the red and blue clad figure float down out of the sky, the dog Skip _flying_ beside him.

 

"Yes, I'm Superman. I'm pleased to meet you, Artemis."

 

"You know my name?"

 

Superman smiles at her, and lays an affectionate hand on Skip's head. "Krypto here has told me all about you."

 

"Krypto?"

 

"That's Skip's other name. He stays with the Kents and looks after them when he's not keeping an eye on me. He likes to keep a low profile. Isn't that right, boy?"

 

"Yip! Yip!"

 

Jade stumbles over and grabs his lance. "You aren't taking him!" she screams, her voice raw. "You're not taking my Daddy away from me!"

 

"Jade." He's simultaneously proud of his daughter and amused. Only his daughter would think to threaten the most powerful man on Earth with a metal stick.

 

Superman raises his hands up. "Jade, I'm not here to hurt your father. I'm not going to take him away." He looks over at Crock and there's the word _Yet_ in his eyes. "But your father needs medical care. Let me look at him. Let me help."

 

She lowers the lance and falls down to her knees. "Don't take him. Please don't take him away from us …"

 

"It'll be okay, Jade. Come here, little girl. Come here." He opens his arms up as he had done before Deathstroke had arrived, and his daughter climbs into them like a frightened child. "It'll be okay."

 

Superman kneels down beside him and looks at his back. His eyes seem to have a strange sheen to them. "Don't move unless it's absolutely necessary. I don't want to take that knife out. It might do more harm than good right now. You need immediate medical care. I'll see to it."

 

"I ain't going anywhere, Superman." He gestures to Artemis and his youngest crawls into his arms from the other side. "Do what you have to."

 

Superman rises back up into the air. "I'll be back soon, Sportsmaster."

 

"I know."

 

"Skip …" Artemis says softly.

 

The dog, about to take to the air, pauses and looks at her.

 

"Thank you for saving my family."

 

"Yip! Yip!" The dog wags his tail and then is gone.

 

And then they're alone.

 

His girls safe in his arms, Lawrence Crock smiles softly as he waits for the future.

 

For now, it's enough.


	13. Bat Bargain

The next two days pass in a blur of pain and hopelessness.

 

He wakes up several times—before the surgery and after—and looks about for his daughters, for his girls. He doesn't care about whether or not they can repair the damage to his spine; he doesn't care if he's going to be put away for the next 100 years; he only cares that his daughters are safe.

 

Nothing else matters.

 

And how can he protect them when he can't even walk?

 

The next time he comes to, he's in some of kind of hospital room—small, private, with the kind of tech he's only seen in the hands of people like Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne. He's handcuffed to the bed—and given the bat winged shape of his manacles, he guesses it's he's not staying in a Lexcorp facility.

 

His girls are in the room with him, asleep in a comfortable-looking chair. Jade's arms are wrapped around her little sister as though to keep her safe from anything that might harm her. In spite of the situation, he smiles to see them.

 

"Crock."

 

The Bat himself is standing in the door.

 

The smile dies on his lips. He doesn't want to see The Bat just now. He doesn't want his girls see him being led away. Superman—the Boy Scout—might have taken pity on him, but there was no way The Bat would …

 

"Batman." It's never been his nature to beg, to plead. But … "Can I say goodbye to my girls first?"

 

"You're not going anywhere just yet, Crock." The Bat pauses. "The Huntress. Your wife. I'm sorry about your loss."

 

"I'd think you'd be glad. One less crook to catch." There's bitterness in his words, but he can't help himself. He can't fight. He can't run. But he can still talk like he's the man he was.

 

"I never want to see anyone die." The Bat glances over at his girls. "And I don't want anyone to become an orphan."

 

He's suddenly ashamed. "Thanks. I mean, thank you for the sympathy." There's something he's missing here. Something that he feels he should know that he's not catching. "And this place. And for letting my girls stay with me."

 

"Didn't have much choice." There's a hint of _amusement_ in The Bat's voice. "We tried locking them in a guest suite. They broke out. We tried adding a guard. They broke out. When they got out of a security cell, I told the others to just let them stay with you."

 

"Security cell? The others?"

 

"Don't you know where you are, Crock?"

 

"We're on the Justice League satellite, Daddy," Jade is suddenly awake—or she's been awake all along. It'd be just like her to be faking it.

 

He's proud. Proud of his oldest. Proud of both his girls.

 

_They're the best of us, Paula. Both of them. No matter what else we did, we had some amazing kids._

 

"It's not polite to listen in other people's conversations, Jade." Batman gives her the full glare.

 

But Jade looks back at The Bat without blinking. She even manages a faint smile. "It's not polite to talk in front of children either."

 

"You have quite the family, Crock." The Bat's lips almost twitch into a smile. _Almost._

 

"Thanks. I do." He glances at Jade, at Artemis who's still asleep in his oldest's arms. "I love you, Jade. I love you both. No matter what happens, never forget that." He looks at The Bat. "They'll be taken care of?"

 

"Aren't you curious about what's going to happen to you, Crock?"

 

"I know what's going to happen to me. I ain't a good man. I've done things." He glances over at Jade. "Bad things. Terrible things. And there ain't no coming back from that. No way I can make up for it. All I can do is pay for it."And as long as my girls are safe, I'm ready."

 

"Daddy…" Jade looks at him but doesn't seem to quite know what to say.

 

"You're right, Crock. There's half a dozen police forces in the world that would love to have you locked up with the key thrown away."

 

"I know," he says, and he knows it's true. There can be no mercy for him. He doesn't have the right to hope for a second chance.

 

"That isn't going to happen," Jade says softly, cradling her sister in her arms. "You can't lock him away forever. I won't let you. _We_ won't let you. Wherever you put him, we'll find him. We'll save him. You aren't taking him away from us." There's no anger in her voice, no desperation. Just that certainty that can be so annoying in a teenager.

 

"Jade…"

 

"Shut up, Daddy."

 

Again the Batman _almost_ smiles. "So you're saying that we should lock you two up as well?"

 

Jade pales at that, but doesn't say anything.

 

"My kids haven't done anything wrong. They aren't a part of this."

 

"Oh, they are a big part of it, Crock," Batman murmurs. "In fact, they're why you haven't been locked away already."

 

"I don't under—Malone. He was working for you?"

 

"In a way."

 

"And the Kents?"

 

"The Kents are … friends. I needed to know if you were worth giving a second chance. If anyone could tell me that, it was going to be the Kents."

 

"And they said-?"

 

"You're not in prison, are you?" Batman pauses. "At least not yet."

 

"So … where does that leave us?"

 

"The authorities are willing to leave you in Justice League custody."

 

"For how long?"

 

"Until Artemis is 18. Then … then we'll see."

 

"So what's the catch?" Hope. Hope to be able to see his kids grow up, to be part of their lives for a little longer. It's more than he expected. More than he dreamed possible.

 

There had to be a catch.

 

"If you try to escape, the deal's off and you spend the rest of your life behind bars. You offer intel…"

 

"I don't rat out my friends."

 

"We're not interested in the small fry. We want the big guys. Luthor. Ra's al Ghul." Batman pauses. "And I think that where the Shadows are concerned you're willing to make a deal."

 

"And if I say yes?"

 

"If you say yes, you get to watch your daughters grow up. We help you keep them safe. And maybe … maybe we take down the League of Shadows."

 

Jade looks over at him. "Daddy, please?"

 

Artemis stirs in her sleep. "Daddy …?"

 

He looks at his daughters. He thinks about the deal The Bat is offering him. Not freedom … he will never be free again. But maybe … maybe his girls will be.

 

"All right, Bats. I'm in." And without thinking, he offers his hand to The Bat.

 

The Bat looks at him. He looks at his hand. For what seems like an hour, he doesn't say a word. Doesn't move.

 

And then … and then he takes Crock's hand.

 

"It's a deal … Lawrence."

 


	14. Still Something To Offer

 

The next three months are harder than any contract he ever took.

 

The League puts them in a small safe house. He's lived in better places, but never for very long. It's clean. It's safe. His girls are safe.

 

But it's not easy.

 

His girls are in school during the day. Artemis still calls out for her mother in her sleep, and all he can do is sit by her, stroking her forehead, telling her that he loves her, that her mother loved her. Sometimes he holds her all night, trying to protect her from bad dreams as he would any physical threat.

 

Jade … Jade doesn't cry. She doesn't act out. She doesn't snap at him. She doesn't call him "Daddy Dearest" any longer.

 

It worries him.

 

It worries him because his little girl should be filled with fire. She's stronger than him. Stronger than her mother, even.

 

Now … now she's quiet and he's afraid that his injury … the way it happened… has taken something from her.

 

He hates Deathstroke for that even more than the loss of his legs.

 

His girls are in school during the day. He has physical therapy. The doctors tell him that he'll never walk again. That's hard. Hard enough that he thinks about checking out—

 

But one look at his baby girl puts those thoughts to rest.

 

He can't do that to her. He can't do that to Jade. He can't leave them. He can't leave his girls.

 

So he does the physical therapy despite how much it hurts. He does his best to be a good father. He helps Artemis with her homework and tries to draw his oldest out of the shell that she seems to be slipping into. He even attends parent/teacher conference days.

 

But when he's not taking care of his girls, when he's not in therapy, the League puts him in their old headquarters. A cave in the middle of some mountain.

 

He's there one day playing Solitaire while their android is watching him when the Batman shows up with some new hero that he's never seen before. "Lawrence, this is the Blue Beetle."

 

"That's a new look for him."

 

"I'm the new Blue Beetle," the guy said. "I'm Ted—"

 

Batman hits him in the stomach. "Not to him."

 

He flips a card over. "Yeah, I'm not a good guy, Beetle. I used to be the Sportsmaster."

 

And that's how he thinks of it. He used to be Sportsmaster. Used to be a husband. Used to be a man. Now he's just marking time. Doing his best for his girls while he still can.

 

"Blue Beetle is just starting out, Lawrence. He could use some training."

 

"What's he need training for? Blue Beetle has powers."

 

"The first one did," the new guy says. "Not me."

 

"Was he your dad? He was around a long time."

 

"Not by blood." The Beetle pauses. "I promised him I'd carry on for him. Carry on the name. And I'm going to."

 

"A promise like that can get you killed."

 

"The Beetle has potential." High praise indeed, coming from The Bat. "But he could use some pointers."

 

"Well go on then. I ain't going to stop you." He flips a card over. "It's your cave."

 

"Actually, I thought you might want to do it."

 

The cards fall from his fingers. "Me? Bats, you got your cowl screwed on too tight today? How can I train anyone—do anything—for anyone trapped in this chair?"

 

"You know better than that, Crock. You're still one of the most highly trained hand to hand combatants in the world. Chair or no, you're still one of the most dangerous men alive." And for a second, he imagines there's something like gentleness in The Bat's voice. "You still have something to offer the world, Lawrence."

 

He sighs. "Fine, Bats. Beetle, hit me."

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"I said hit me. C'mon. Let me see what you've got."

 

The Beetle glances over at Batman who steps back.

 

"Come on. I ain't got all day. I still have to make dinner for my kids before they get home."

 

The Beetle shrugs and then throws a punch.

 

He catches the Beetle's arm. "Pathetic. You couldn't have telegraphed that any more if you used Western Union. Now I have your arm. What are you going to do now, kid?"

 

He expects the kid to try to punch with his other arm but he goes in for a head-butt instead.

 

He catches him by the neck and then slams his face into the table. "Count yourself lucky this was just training, kid, or I'd have broken your nose. Potential, huh, Bats?"

 

"I'll leave you two alone," The Bat says with something like a smile in his voice.

 

Not on his face, though. God forbid Batman should ever actually _smile_. It'd probably cause his face to crack.

 

"All right, Beetle. The first thing you have to do is…"

 

"I listen better when my face isn't being ground into a table …"

 

"Oh, right. Okay. Tornado, can you get us some ice? The kid's nose is redder than you are…"


	15. No Ordinary Family

He's afraid.

 

Not of the dark. He's spent days in darkness. Days in caverns. Days in tunnels scarcely larger than his body. He even had to dig himself out a coffin death trap once from six foot underground.

 

No, the dark has no terror for him now.

 

It's what's he's waiting for. Why he's sitting alone, hating himself. Hating himself for failing—for breaking the promise he had made to his wife when she lay dying in his arms.

 

He failed Paula. Failed his girls.

 

They creep through the window like pros. That was one of the first things that tipped him off—that the window opened as smooth as silk when he was doing some spring cleaning. From there it was checking their stuff—finding the false bottom … their gear …

 

_I'm sorry, Paula._

 

They don't hear him.

 

They're good. They're damn good, but they're just kids.

 

He waits till Artemis is through the window … slower than her sister, less sure … before he turns on the light. "Bang. You're both dead."

 

Jade is wearing a dark green outfit, and the cat's mask that her mother had given her for last birthday. The mask hides her face and her voice doesn't give any more away. "Hello, Daddy Dearest."

 

Artemis is carrying her bow. She's also wearing a dark green outfit, but she's wearing a cut down version of his own mask. "Daddy?"

 

"Yes, baby girl. Thought you were going to be a tiger."

 

Artemis takes her mask off and looks at him. "Jade had dibs on that. I call myself Sport."

 

"Not Sportsmaster?" He almost smiles. _Almost._

 

"Not yet. I haven't earned it."

 

"You're not going to. You're done."

 

"No." Jade took off her mask. "No we're not."

 

"This is what I wanted for you. This isn't what your mother wanted for you."

 

"Don't we get a say in how our lives are to be lived, Daddy Dearest?"

 

"No. No you don't. Don't you know where this path leads? The Life may seem fun, but it leads just one way … and that's six foot under. I won't have that for you. I _won't._ "

 

"Daddy …" Artemis sets her bow down and grabs his hands. "We're not trying to get into The Life. We're trying to _help_ people."

 

He blinks. "What did you say?"

 

Jade sits down in a chair across from him, lounging with the irritating manner that only a teenage girl possesses. "That's right, Daddy. We're on the side of the angels." Her lips quirk in a smile. "More or less."

 

"Did The Bat put you up to this?" He hadn't been happy when Batman had started putting kids on the streets, but he'd held his tongue, but gratitude only went so far. If The Bat thought he'd put _his_ girls on the line then (chair or no) he'd kick that caped behind of his all the way to Gotham and back …

 

"No, Daddy. We decided this. We want this. We _need_ it." Artemis looked at him earnestly. "If we show the League how good you're raising us, then we don't have to worry about them putting you away when I'm older …"

 

And that was his youngest …

 

"It doesn't work that way, baby girl." He touches her cheek. "You can't buy forgiveness … not for yourself … not for someone else."

 

"It's not just for that."

 

His oldest. Of course he knew that was not her reason. "Oh?"

 

"Do you really think the League can protect us from the Shadows forever? Sure, The Bat is using your Intel to take down a cell here or there, but you know that Ra's will never give up. The more the League succeeds, the more determined he's going to be to take revenge. And even if they would, do you seriously think we'd _let_ them?" Jade glares at him, and he finds himself smiling.

 

It's the first time he's seen the old Jade back since he lost his legs.

 

"We're Crocks, Daddy Dearest. We are your children—and _hers._ Do you seriously think we'll let someone else control our destinies the rest of our lives? No one can do that—not the League. Not the Shadows. Not The Bat—not even _you_."

 

"You have two choices, Daddy," Artemis whispered, trying her best to sound tough like her big sister. "You can try to rein us in—and you know that won't work. Or …"

 

"Or?" He knows what she's going to say, but he wants her to say it.

 

"You can train us again. You can help us become what we're meant to be, Daddy," and this time it's Jade who speaks … Jade who surprises him. "I know what Mom wanted. I know what you want. You want us to be safe. We both know that. And we both love you for that … but that's not who we are."

 

"We don't belong to that world, Dad," Artemis' eyes are large and filled with tears. "I know it'd make things so much easier for us all if we were—but we'll never be able to lead normal lives. We were meant for this." She holds up her mask in one hand, her bow in the other. "We were meant to do the things that ordinary people can't or won't do. Help us, Daddy.

 

"Help us be who we're meant to be."

 

And Lawrence Crock looks at his girls—his precious, beautiful girls—and he feels another stab of guilt. If they weren't his children—if his blood didn't run through their veins—then they could have all the things he wanted for them. They could have the nice safe careers, the nice safe lives … they could turn their back on the night, and grow up and grow old never having to face all the terrible things, all the terrible people, that he knows are part of _his_ world.

 

But they _are_ his. His children and Paula's. And he cannot change that …

 

_I'm sorry, Paula._

 

And he makes the only decision he can.

 


	16. Five Years Later ...

Five years later …

 

He still has his girls, but he knows that won't last much longer. Jade is like some kind of wild cat … torn between her desire to be out on her own and her need to be with her family. She's got her mother's beauty, but he seems more of himself in her every day … both good and bad.

 

Artemis … Artemis is worried about her sister … worried about her father. Aware that his time is running out … that when she turns 18 the Justice League will finally make her father pay for all his crimes. She should be looking forward to growing up, moving on … but she knows what that means to her father and she's angry over it.

 

She's cut her hair short … much like he had worn it in his active days. Her outfit is a modified version of his old uniform though she still carries a bow. She still wears his mask.

 

There was only so much he could do for them in terms of training … in advice that he could give them over radio. They had needed another mentor … someone who could keep them from going too far … someone who knew about growing up in the shadow of someone else.

 

Black Canary.

 

Asking her for help hadn't been easy … but it hadn't been hard, either. Doing what he had to for his kids has only grown easier with time, and swallowing his pride was a small price to pay if meant his girls would be safer in the life they had chosen.

 

Of course spending time with Canary had meant that they also spent time with Green Arrow and his sidekick.

 

The attraction between Jade and the boy—Speedy? Why did he name his sidekick Speedy?—had been almost instant. The kid had a chip on his shoulder … one that grew only larger when Jade outfought him and Artemis outshot him. Give him credit, though … he was a hard worker and didn't lag behind them for long.

 

The archer seemed oblivious to his boy's needs, though. The boy was reaching out … for guidance, for attention … and the Arrow's too wrapped up in his various causes… in his woman … to notice.

 

It angers him because he can see the signs of the disaster. He's tried reaching out to the boy, but he's not Speedy's father, and the man who _should_ be isn't paying attention.

 

The boy's a powder keg waiting to go off … and Jade seems bound and determined to be there for the show. There's something in the boy's pain … something in his frustration … that calls to his little girl in ways that no one else can control.

 

He doesn't like it. He can't stop it. He remembers Paula, and how no force on Earth could have torn them apart.

 

And Jade is every bit as passionate, every bit as stubborn, as her parents.

 

He worries about her. Worries about what will happen to her when he's called to account for his myriad sins. He worries because he knows that she has not given up on avenging their wrongs on Deathstroke … he knows that she's been trying to track 'Stroke down for years now … pushing herself to become harder, to become stronger … to become the person who will take him down.

 

In a way, he's thankful for Speedy's drama. The more she has to fret over her boyfriend's issues the less time she has to throw herself into her vendetta.

 

Artemis takes the mantle of hero, of family redeemer, seriously. She pushes herself to do better, to be better … to be the best. He grew up with that same drive in himself … to be the best at his craft … and it makes him both proud and worried.

 

Proud because his daughter is doing well at something she chose for herself. Proud that she can take care of herself and hold her own against men and women with decades of greater experience, pitting her human skill against inhuman power—and coming out on top.

 

It worries him because he fears the price is too high. She doesn't laugh as much … does not seek to build a life for herself beyond the mask. Sport the hero is gradually becoming all there is to Artemis Crock … and he knows his daughter is so much more than that.

 

That's why he's grateful that Kid Flash (at least there was a mentor who knew what to call his pupil) is nursing a crush on his baby girl. The boy is irrepressible … sometimes so smug that he irritates the hell out of _everyone_ … but he gets through Artemis's defenses. Makes her angry. Makes her laugh. Makes her remember there's more to life than the mask …

 

When he's gone, when he's locked up in a hole so dark and deep that daylight will have forgotten him, she'll need Kid Flash to keep her from doing something stupid.

 

Robin … Robin he's surprised by. Oh, not that he could hold his own in a fight … The Bat trained him after all … He's surprised that the boy hasn't become a miniature version of his mentor. Robin laughs. Robin jokes. Robin brings a little light to even the dark soul of The Bat.

 

Aqualad is a born leader. He fights bravely at the side of his mentor and king, but there's sadness in his eyes as well. Something that suggests he left something … someone … behind in Atlantis when he took his place at Aquaman's right hand.

 

He likes these boys … even Speedy.

 

He knows that the boys, these sidekicks, want to be more. They hunger to be treated as heroes in their own right. They want respect.

 

And they've earned it.

 

But it won't be easy for their mentors to give it to them.

 

He understands that too.

 

His blood pressure still goes through the roof when his girls go out into the night alone without Canary … when they go offline from radio contact. Letting them solo is torture. He thinks a hundred different things that can go wrong… from equipment breaking to some punk who would normally be no challenge at all getting that one lucky break that can turn an accomplished martial artist, an expert hand to hand combatant … into a corpse.

 

He knows his girls are good, and will get better with time. He knows that they are extremely capable and competent.

 

That doesn't stop the worry. That doesn't stop the fear.

 

 _Nothing_ does.

 

But he's learned to let go … to keep quiet about his fear if not entirely master it.

 

The League hasn't learned that lesson yet.

 

They brought these children into their version of The Life, but they want to keep them safe. They want them to spread their wings but they want them to stay in the nest. They want them to grow up to be heroes but still watch over their every move and keep them from harm.

 

He understands that. He appreciates it.

 

But he knows it's doomed to failure.

 

The kids—their kids and his— _will_ grow up. They will spread their wings.

 

They will be heroes.

 

And they will be amazing.


	17. Dawn of the Team

He's not surprised when the kids go off the reservation.

 

He's surprised that the League thought their little "Hall of Justice" pass was going to make the kids happy. Even The Bat seemed to think it was a good idea. Didn't they know _anything_ about kids?

 

Jade had gone off after Speedy when he left in anger. No surprise there. It was only a matter of time for those two to do something like that.

 

He didn't like it, but he hadn't been caught unawares.

 

He just hoped that Jade didn't plan on making him a grandfather any time soon.

 

Artemis would have tagged along with her big sister—or at least _tried_ to—if Kid Flash hadn't made some snide remark about it. Either he was smarter than he acted—which was pretty much a given—or he just lucked out on the right buttons to push for Artemis.

 

The Cadmus thing … that _had_ surprised him.

 

Oh, not that the government was up to something shady regarding Superman. More than once, he'd been hired by the Feds to do things that weren't strictly speaking legal … or moral. The idea of having a walking, talking, weapon of mass destruction at their disposal was enough to make most spooks he'd met drool.

 

No, he's surprised at the League's response.

 

"They disobeyed us." The Bat's used him as a sounding board often enough that he's not surprised that he's told him the whole story. " _Robin_ disobeyed me."

 

"Did you tell them _not_ to go?"

 

Silence.

 

"The kids are growing up. You can't show them the Life—give them a chance to make a difference—and then tell them they aren't supposed to do it without you."

 

"Your daughter was part of this, Crock. She could have died."

 

"You think I don't' know that, Bats?" He wheels himself back from the table and points at his legs. "I live with that thought every day. Every time the girls go out I wonder if this is the night they aren't going to come back. And I'm stuck in this damn chair and can't do a damn thing about it." He takes a deep breath. "I've had to trust in my girls—trust in what they can do, what I've taught them—what _Canary's_ taught them—and let them live the life they've chosen."

 

"They aren't ready to be on their own— _he's_ not ready."

 

He knows who the _he_ is, of course.

 

"He's your boy, Bats." He met the eyes that he knew were behind the mask. "He's your son. I know it's not by blood, but he's yours. He can do this. _They_ can do this."

 

"So, what? The League rewards them for being reckless? For putting their lives at risk—for putting innocent people at risk?"

 

"It's not a question of reward or punishment. You don't punish a bird for leaving the nest. You teach it how to fly. You're right. The kids aren't ready to be on their own. They still need guidance. Just not the same kind you've given them in the past."

 

"The clone. Robin calls him 'Superboy.'"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"I thought Superman would take him—"

 

"But he chickened out? And that surprises you?"

 

"He's Superman."

 

"Yeah. And you expect him to instantly be filled with parental devotion to this teenaged stranger with his face? How long did it take you to think of yourself as Robin's father?"

 

Silence.

 

"He's got a lot to figure out—and so does the boy. The boy needs a home. Family can come later, but right now he needs a roof over his head and to think that he's got people he can count on. If you want him to be more than a weapon, then you'll make sure he has that."

 

The Bat was quiet for a moment. "We're thinking about setting them up as a team. Let them run a few missions without us. Things that we think they can handle."

 

"You can't stop them from fighting, but you want to choose their battles?"

 

"Yes."

 

"And you want Artemis to be part of your little band?"

 

"Yes. She's good. She's level headed. And she'll probably tag along with them even if you tell her no."

 

He barks out a laugh. "You're right about that."

 

"Arrow's not heard from Speedy since he left. Jade-?"

 

"Yeah. She called. They're okay. She's going to stay with him for at least a few days. Try to get him to calm down."

 

"He won't go back to Arrow, will he?"

 

"No." The window of opportunity for that had closed. Some scars don't heal.

 

"And Jade?"

 

"She says she'll be home soon." He doesn't believe her. She's been chomping at the bit ever since she graduated high school. There was too much of him in her—it was time for his little girl to try life on her own.

 

The Bat knows him well enough to read the truth behind the words. "I'm sorry, Lawrence."

 

"It's okay. She's a grown woman now." If he tells himself that long enough, maybe he'll believe it.

 

"I need your help, Lawrence."

 

 _Now_ he was surprised.

 

" _What_ did you say?"

 

"There's nothing wrong with your hearing, Crock." He knows The Bat well enough to know there's a smile in the words. "Canary has offered to provide them additional training. Red Tornado will be their official liaison with the League—he's not close to any of them so they won't feel he's being overprotective."

 

"Red's got a mother hen complex like you wouldn't believe. I should know. He's been babysitting me for years now."

 

"Canary and Tornado are professionals, but I'd like your input too."

 

"What? As their den mother? You want me to bake them cookies after each mission?"

 

"We've had this discussion before, Lawrence. You've still got skills. You can teach them things even Canary can't. And you're good at reading people. If Superboy's a threat, I want to know about it as soon as possible."

 

And if this clone was dangerous, his baby girl would be right on the front lines. There was really only one answer he could make. That didn't mean he couldn't have fun with it …

 

"Ah hell, Bats. You know I can't resist you when you give me those puppy dog eyes …"

 

The resulting Bat glare lowered the temperature of the room at least ten degrees.


	18. Boy of Steel

The boy—the clone. _Superboy._ He lives in the Mount Justice Cave—to shame Superman into taking him home?—and so he sees a lot of the kid.

 

At first, the kid avoids him like the plague. But when the other kids are at school—and he knows that The Bat is probably working on creating some kind of identity for the kid while giving Superman time to adjust—Superboy doesn't have much else to do other than watch him. Like some kind of wild animal checking things out, he starts to circle in a little closer each day.

 

It takes him about three days to get close enough, lonely enough, that he's willing to talk to Crock. "You're Artemis's father, right?"

 

"Hey, kid. Yeah. Guilty as charged."

 

"She's a good fighter."

 

"Yes she is." He cocks an amused eyebrow at the boy. "Are you coming over to ask for my permission to date my little girl?"

 

"What? No!" The kid's face turns so red it's a wonder he doesn't love his super powers.

 

"You're saying she ain't good enough for you? You know what I did to the last guy who disrespected my little girl? Tell him Reddy."

 

"We're still looking for the body parts," Red Tornado said, deadpan.

 

It had taken five years, but he had finally taught the android to at least _act_ like he had a sense of humor.

 

Superboy flushed. "I—why am I talking to you, anyway?"

 

"Because you're lonely and you're bored and you ain't got nothin' better to do." He barks out a laugh. "I'm just funning you, kid. I ain't lookin' to start any trouble." It's something he does; plays the bad guy role up a bit—people always assume you're an idiot if you toss in an occasional "ain't" or let your "g"'s drop. _Kid needs to talk to someone who doesn't sound like a doctor._

 

"What do you know about it? What do you know about me?"

 

"What do I know? Not a lot. You're a clone of the Big Red S, but you don't have all his powers. You ain't livin' with him and you don't know why because somewhere along the way someone or something told you that blood's supposed to take care of blood and you're wonderin' why you ain't good enough for 'im."

 

"I don't have to listen to this!"

 

"No. You don't. But there ain't that much on television and you got another two hours before the rest of the kids get out of school and come back here to rag on the adults." He shrugs and flips another card over. "I was young once, too."

 

"Were there dinosaurs back then?" Superboy arches an eyebrow.

 

He barks out a laugh. "You're learnin', kid. Nah. No dinosaurs. But I had trouble with my old man too."

 

"He doesn't talk to me. He _won't_ talk to me. I try and—" Superboy holds his hands up. "I don't understand. What's wrong with me? Is it because I can't fly—I'm not _good_ enough-?"

 

"That ain't it, kid." He turns another card over and looks over at the boy. "Look, most guys get nine months to find out they're going to be a dad—the Big Red S was presented with a teenage reflection of himself with no warning whatsoever. I ain't sayin' he's handlin' it right, but it takes time to get used to the idea that you're a parent."

 

"How do I fix it? How do I make him like me?"

 

"You don't. You can't."

 

The kid scowls at him.

 

"It's because it's got nothin' to do with you, kid. It ain't because you can't fly. It's not because you're somehow not good enough to be his boy. No matter what you do, what you try, you ain't going to make him like you and want you. That's because the problem ain't yours—it's _his_."

 

The kid blinks in surprise.

 

"Superman is the Big Guy. Everyone expects him to take care of everythin' and everyone. He's not God, but people treat him like it—they forget that he's not perfect. Hell, he probably forgets it himself. He looks at you, and he sees himself—he looks at the things you can do and he sees how he could have turned out—and he's _afraid._ He's afraid he's going to screw it up—screw _you_ up and then he'll be to blame for everything you do." He flips another card. "That, or he's just freaked out by seeing his high school graduation picture walking around as a real person."

 

"So what do I do?"

 

"You wait and see. You wait and see if he's gonna man up and grow a pair under those bright red trunks of his." He flips another card over. "But that doesn't mean you give up livin'. Bein' Superboy doesn't mean you have to be Superman's kid."

 

"I don't know how to do that."

 

"You'll learn, kid. You'll learn. No one expects you to know all the answers just a few days after hatchin'."

 

"I wasn't hatched." The ghost of a smile crosses his face. "I was decanted."

 

"Good ta know. Now sit down and I'll teach you something useful."

 

"What?" Superboy sits down, curious.

 

He grins at the kid and sweeps the cards up. "Poker."

 


	19. Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is one of those holidays that he tries hard to make special for his girls. Even when Paula was alive, even when they were on the run, he would try to scrounge up a turkey, make some homemade mashed potatoes, and scare up some rolls to give them something like a "normal" holiday. If he was really lucky, he'd even be able to get them some pumpkin pie. Those days—those days when Jade would be a _little_ less snarky, when Artemis's eyes would be so wide with hope—those were the days he used to convince himself that he wasn't a total failure as a father.

 

And the times he failed—the times he was rotting in jail or the heat from the law was so hot that he couldn't even get them a turkey sandwich—those were the times when he'd hate himself even more than normal.

 

This year he's not totally sure that Jade will show up. Speedy may be on the outs with the Arrow, but Black Canary's the closest thing he has to a mother and he can't imagine the boy will break her heart knowing what the holiday get together means to her. The bond between Speedy and his little girl is stronger every time he sees them—and he's not sure that this won't be the first year he doesn't have his family together.

 

It hurts.

 

It hurts but he tries his best not to let it show. Jade and Artemis need to lead their own lives—especially since the clock is ticking, and he knows that he's running out of time. The League had given him until Artemis finished high school to remain out of stir—once her life as an adult begins, his life is over. The more support they have when that time comes—the more people they have in their lives—the less it will hurt them when he's gone for good.

 

The first year after he lost Paula, it was just the girls and him. The second year—the second year he had invited Red Tornado to join them. "You're stuck with me most of the rest of the year; you might as well get a meal out of it."

 

"I don't eat."

 

"Then I'll make sure you have a can of oil and a plate of batteries. Come on, Reddy. It's a time for family."

 

"Do you consider me family, Sportsmaster?"

 

"You're my guard—who can be closer to a guy than that? And call me Lawrence. Or Larry. Or even 'Crusher.' But enough with the Sportsmaster. That part of my life is over."

 

"All right … 'Crusher.'"

 

Reddy had been a part of the Crock Family Thanksgiving ever since.

 

One of these days he might even learn how to make a decent pecan pie.

 

But Reddy won't be the only guest this year.

 

"Hey, kid? Superboy? Turkey isn't your Kryptonite, is it?"

 

"As far as I know, Kryptonite is my Kryptonite." The kid had been watching him talk to Reddy about Thanksgiving with an envy disguised only by teenage attitude.

 

"Good. You're coming to my house for Thanksgiving. Bring an appetite. I don't want to eat leftovers for the next two weeks."

 

The kid had nodded with something like a smile on his face—something that was about as rare as The Bat cracking a joke. "Can M'Gann come too?"

 

"If her uncle doesn't mind, it's fine by me. In fact, that gives me an idea."

 

He couldn't stop time. He couldn't slow it down. But he could make the most of what time he had.

 

"Kaldur, you're coming to my house for Thanksgiving."

 

"Thank you, Mr. Crock, but it's not my holiday."

 

"I know it's not, kid. But sometimes what we're celebrating isn't as important as who we're celebrating it with."

 

Aqualad had been easy compared to The Bat.

 

"Robin and I will be spending Thanksgiving together."

 

"Of course you will. I'm sure you've got the Batcave all decorated and the Bat-Turkey is in the Bat-Oven. But Robin needs this. His team needs this."

 

"I do not have a Bat-Oven."

 

"But the Bat-Turkey is totally legit, right? Don't go breaking my heart, Bats. He doesn't have to stay all night—he doesn't even have to eat that much—but it'll do him good to hang with his team. It'll do them all good."

 

"One hour. He'll be there for one hour." The Bat turned with an impressive swirl of his cape. "And Crock?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"You're right. They need this."

 

In the end, the Manhunter had also agreed to let Miss Martian join them as well. Kid Flash had more or less invited himself—saying that he'd have no problem eating two Thanksgiving meals—Artemis had looked rather annoyed, but she also made sure that his seat was next to hers.

 

It's a lot of work. He's not the world's best cook, but he always makes everything himself because his girls deserve the best. He does allow Reddy to help with the serving, but he makes Artemis sit with their friends while the two of them get everything ready.

 

He likes listening to the team. Young laughter. Young voices filled with happiness and hope. It's a good sound. Especially Artemis's.

 

Finally, the table is set and he tells the kids to come eat.

 

"Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Crock," Kaldur says with that curiously charming formality of his.

 

"Yes, thanks, Mr. Crock." Kid Flash's plate is twice as full as anyone else's even after he makes a sizable dent in its contents. "This is great!"

 

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Twinkletoes!" Artemis slaps his hand, but there's a smile on her face that makes her resemble her mother so much that it causes his heart to ache.

 

Superboy and the Martian girl are obviously communicating telepathically because the boy occasionally breaks out laughing when no one else hears the joke and then turns red with embarrassment—as opposed to his normal "red with anger" look. "Everything is very good, sir."

 

"Don't call me sir, kid. I used to work for a living." He knows that he's grinning so much that his face aches, but even so there's a sadness in his heart as he keeps looking at the door.

 

Jade isn't there. She hasn't called to say she's not coming.

 

It's her life. She has a right to live it how she chooses. That's what Paula and he always did—and she's their daughter.

 

Robin makes the most of the hour The Bat gave him. He stuffs his face. He laughs with the others. He tells jokes. He takes pictures of his friends. And then he hugs everyone—even Crock himself—before leaving.

 

After the Boy Wonder makes a characteristically flamboyant departure—climbing out the window and somersaulting into the Batmobile that's there to pick him up precisely one hour after he arrived—Crock starts to gather the dishes up. The kids have eaten and Jade isn't coming, so there's no point in delaying.

 

But the team refuses to let him do the work.

 

"You prepared the meal, sir. The least we can do is take care of the dishes." Aqualad nods at Kid Flash who cleans the table up in less than a minute. "Why don't you relax?"

 

"Thanks, kid. Maybe I'll just go lie down. I'm feeling tired." He isn't, but he knows how much more the team will enjoy themselves without a grown-up around. Besides, he doesn't have heart to do anything else.

 

And then there's a knock at the door.

 

"I got it!" Artemis runs forward and opens the door. "I was afraid you weren't going to make it."

 

"You know better than that, little sister. I just ran into some traffic leaving Star City. Is the old man still up?"

 

Jade.

 

"I'm not as old as all that." He knows his voice is trembling, but he can't stop it. "You're just in time for some of Reddy's pecan pie."

 

"Damn. I was hoping my timing was better than that." Jade walked into the room as though it had not been weeks since he had last seen her. She was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans, and was carrying a motorcycle helmet. "There's always next year."

 

"Yes. There's always next year." He grins up at his daughter, wanting to hug her, but not sure he should. Not sure if that would be an intrusion on her newfound independence. He wants her to be strong—needs her to be strong.

 

And then Jade kneels beside his wheelchair and wraps her arms around his neck. "Happy Thanksgiving, Daddy."

 

He hugs her back tightly. "Happy Thanksgiving, little girl. Love you."

 

"Love you too, Daddy."

 

His time is running out. He can almost see the cell that's waiting for him. Nothing can change that.

 

But tonight … tonight his little girl came home—if only for a while—and there's nothing more he wants in life.

 

Tonight Lawrence Crock is thankful that his girls are home. That his girls are safe. That they are alive and they are with him.

 

Tonight Lawrence Crock is happy.


	20. Christmas Surprise

With Artemis away from home on a mission for her Team, he has time to finish wrapping up Christmas Gifts. She had warned him that she might not make it home in time, but he's willing to wager that The Bat's Little Bird will try to wrap things up in time- especially since Red Arrow is working with the Team on this mission.

Red Arrow, but not Jade.

His little girl had promised that she would be home for Christmas, but she had a case of her own to take care of, and he wasn't entirely happy about that. Deathstroke had popped up a few months back working with some new female martial artist- Jade had been working with Harper on it on the case and she'd been pretty shocked to see that the new girl had taken Paula's name and gimmick. He wasn't thrilled with it himself, but he didn't want Jade going off half-cocked. Anyone the League of Shadows let use the name of the Huntress would have to be dangerous indeed.

Possibly too dangerous for Jade to face on her own.

Still, Jade was a Crock, and telling her _not_ to do something was the surest way to make sure that she did it.

So he held his tongue- and asked Canary to keep an especially close eye on his oldest.

Canary- _Dinah_ \- had promised to do so, so he felt a little better.

Not _much_ , but a little better.

Still, the fact that he owed Dinah another one- over and above all the other favors she had done for his family since she had first agreed to look out for his girls- had made him decide that this year he was going to get her something other than the cards they'd been exchanging for the last few years. He didn't have a lot of money- though the Blue Beetle insisted on paying him for refresher courses in sparring- but he had never been the kind of guy to pick out fancy things anyway.

So he had made her some escrima sticks. She wasn't big on using anything other than bare hands in combat, but they were light enough she could carry them with her in case she ever needed them … or use them to train her students.

Except for the girls, he hadn't made a weapon for a woman since Paula.

 _Just remember she's taken, Crock,_ he told himself. _And even if she wasn't, there's no way she'd want half a man …_

He forces the thought away and goes back to his wrapping.

He'd made Jade a new set of fighting claws- the girl went through at least two or three pair a year, but he'd talked the Tornado into getting some alien metal from the Hawks and Beetle had made him the tools to work with it. Maybe this set would last longer.

He'd made Artemis some new arrows- the Archer supplied her with tech that he couldn't hope to match these days- but he still had had a few tricks up his sleeve. The toxins and chemicals he'd treated these arrows with weren't fatal, but they were probably a bit more hard core than Arrow normally used. His baby girl would use them if she had to- he hope'd she'd never need them, but her Team was facing greater and greater threats all the time, and he wanted to protect her as much as possible.

Red Tornado he had gotten a Blu Ray of Pinocchio. Given Reddy's latest "secret" project, it had seemed appropriate.

Aqualad he'd gotten a copy of Plato's Atlantis in the original Greek.

Superboy he'd gotten a pair of jeans and a collar for that big pet wolf of his with a tracking device in it to find him when the big mutt went off roaming on his own … and some poker chips.

Kid Flash had been easy. He'd just picked up some gift certificates from a few of the fast food joints that he knew the speedster liked … having been informed by Artemis that the boy pretty much liked _all_ fast food joints he didn't have to spend a lot of effort in it.

Miss Martian had been a challenge, but he had managed to find a complete bootleg set of "Hello, Megan!" on Ebay. (He knew that she had looked familiar, but it had been a combination of insomnia and cable television that had finally filled in the pieces of where her Earth-form came from.)

Red Arrow he had made a bow for … a bow made in the Navajo tradition. He'd heard the kid curse a few times, and had an old Navajo Code Talker as a mentor in his youth. It had taken some time to make, but he'd started on it as soon as Jade had moved in with him.

Robin had ultimately been the toughest one. The Bat was obviously filthy rich, and would give the boy everything. Finally, he had given him _The Art of War._ More than likely, the Little Bird already owned a copy- perhaps even an _original_ copy- but if it was the thought that counted then he had at least _tried_ to give the boy something both he and his guardian would appreciate.

He's nearly done when he becomes aware that the house alarms are off line.

"Damn. Getting soft in my old age." He's never liked guns. He can use them, but he doesn't care for them. A sword, a javelin, a bow- _those_ are the weapons he was born to raise. Guns … guns are brutal and there's no poetry in them.

But he's not the man he was … and he's had to face that fact.

So he has a gun that he carries with him at all times.

And now there is a stranger in his house. A stranger who was able not to just bypass _his_ security measures, but those that the League had forced on him. A stranger who had to be very, very dangerous …

"You don't need the gun, Lawrence. I'm not here to hurt you. If I had been, you would have been dead already."

He knows that voice.

He has never forgotten it. He still hears it in his nightmares. "No ..."

"Yes, Lawrence. It's me."

She steps out of the shadows then.

She's wearing the outfit of the Huntress, with a stylized cat-mask. There's a smile on her face.

He knows that smile.

He knows the way she moves. He knows the way she talks. He knows the way she _breathes._

"No. It can't be. You're dead."

"Am I, Lawrence?" She laughs- a low, throaty laugh. As deep and as sensual as the sounds she would make when they lay together late at night …

"Paula ..."

She takes the mask off and lets it drop to the table. "Yes, Lawrence. It's me. It's Paula. I'm back, my love. I came back for you.

"I came back for my girls."


	21. Not Her

"I came back for my girls."

 

It looks like her. Moves like her. Sounds like her. _Smells_ like her ...

 

But something is wrong.

 

And when he hears _those_ words, something in him growls in anger. Jade and Artemis are _his_ girls. He's done his best for them—did his damnedest to make up for all the ways he failed them before—and he won't give them up to _anyone._

 

Not even Paula.

 

"No."

 

"No?" The amusement in her voice is just like Paula's. The exact tone she'd get when someone would laugh at the idea that such a slight woman could be a threat.

 

"You ain't taking my girls." He's half the man he used to be, but he's at least twice the father he was then. "You ain't Paula, and you ain't getting my kids. Even if you _were_ Paula, you can't have them."

 

"They're my daughters too, Lawrence." Still that amused tone of voice that would have been charming if he didn't remember how many men had died hearing that tone. "I gave birth to them. I trained them too. They love me more than they ever did you—even little Artemis."

 

"Maybe they love their mother more than me"—and he had no reason to doubt that; after all didn't he sometimes hear Artemis call out for her mother in her sleep?—"but you ain't her."

 

"What makes you say that?"

 

 _Because Paula had made me promise,_ he wanted to say, but didn't. "They did a good job, but it's not perfect."

 

"What?"

 

"Your nose."

 

"What about my nose?" She touches it in confusion.

 

"There's not the little bump in it—the one from the time that Starman broke it. And you're not just in good shape for a dead woman—you're in better shape than you were before you _died!"_ He knows now. He understands. And he hates Ras al Ghul and the damn League of Shadows even more than he ever thought possible. "Look at you. You're at least 15 years younger than you ought to be—maybe 20. You're not my wife. You're not the Huntress—"

 

"I _am_ the Huntress!" And the rage is like Paula's too …

 

"You're a _clone._ "

 

"A clone?" She blinks, and for a moment there's no amusement, no anger … there's just … _confusion._ "You're insane, Lawrence. All this time as the Justice League's prisoner has driven you crazy."

 

"No. I'm not crazy. I wish to God I were. I wish you were really her. I wish my wife was back—but you're not her. The Shadows _cloned_ Paula. Hell, they must have used a telepath to give you her memories—or at least recreate them enough to make you _think_ you're her.

 

"But you're not her. You'll never be her." He pauses because she didn't ask for this. "I'm sorry."

 

She stares at him for another moment. "You're crazy. You're trying to trick me. It won't work, Lawrence. I knew who I am. I'm the Huntress. The girls belong with me—they belong with the Shadows. You can't stop me from taking them. The Justice League can't stop me. I'm going to have my children back!"

 

"You really think you're Paula Nguyen? Back from the dead?"

 

"I _didn't_ die! The Shadows saved me after you abandoned me! After you stole my children from me!"

 

"You really think I'd have left you—left _Paula_ —if she hadn't died in my arms?"

 

"Obviously. Because I'm here. It makes a lot more sense than the idea that the Shadows would _clone_ a dead woman."

 

"If you're the Huntress—if you're _Paula—_ what were your last words to me?"

 

"What?"

 

"What did you say to me on that rooftop?"

 

"I—" Her eyes close.

 

_"Lawrence … the girls. Do not let this be their fate. Promise me. Promise me—"_

 

"What were your last words?! What did you want more than anything else?!" He screams the words at this woman, this stranger with his wife's face, his wife's voice …

 

"Avenge me!" Her eyes snapped open. "I said, 'Avenge my death!'"

 

" _No!"_ Vindication has never tasted so bitter. In spite of everything, he wanted her to _remember…_ "That's not what you wanted—that's not what _Paula_ wanted." She wanted the girls safe—and he had promised her. And he'll keep that promise—even against this living ghost of his wife. "She wanted the girls to be safe! Do you _still_ think you're their mother?!"

 

She closes her eyes for a moment. She shudders, and then she screams out a primal cry of rage, of anger, of loss … "I AM THE HUNTRESS!"

 

But she knows she isn't.

 

He can see it in her eyes.

 

He still has the gun.

 

He could shoot her now. He could shoot her before she has a chance to adjust to the truth. He could kill her before she has a chance to kill him—a chance to get at his girls and use her face and her voice to lure them into a trap or worse. He could end her threat now with just the pull of a trigger …

 

But he can't.

 

He's not that man anymore.

 

"Go," he tells her finally. "I don't care what you call yourself or what you do—just get the hell out of my house and stay the hell away from my girls. If you don't …" He lets the threat linger.

 

She picks up the mask she had dropped off. "I have a new lover now, Lawrence."

 

"Oh?" He's surprised at the white hot jealousy that surges in his heart at those words.

 

"Deathstroke. He's twice the man you are—the man you were back when you were still a man." She sneers at him, but the words ring hollow. "I will be back, Lawrence. You can't keep the girls away from me—from the Shadows. The daughters of the Huntress belong to the Shadows."

 

"Like hell." He raises the gun, and it's steady as a rock. "Go before I change my mind."

 

"You're weak, Lawrence. Pathetic. I never loved you—she _never_ loved you!"

 

"Whatever. I'm counting to three. If you're still here by the time I hit 'three' you're leaving in a body bag. One."

 

"I'll see you dead, Lawrence. Dead and your daughters with the Shadows. With _me._ "

 

"Two." The safety is off. He's aiming at her forehead. One bullet and it's all over.

 

She throws something at her feet and a cloud of smoke covers her.

 

"Three."

 

He doesn't fire. He doesn't need to. He knows even before the smoke clears that she's gone.

 

He carefully puts the gun down.

 

He has to tell the girls. He has to warn them. He can't let them be caught off guard—not like he was. He has to warn them. He has to protect them …

 

But even after the smoke bomb, the scent of her perfume still lingers in the room …

 

 _Paula's_ perfume.

 

_I have to be strong …_

 

And then, try as he might to fight them, the tears come once more …

 

_Paula. Dear God. Paula …_

 


	22. DINAH

The girls take it about as well as he expected they would.

 

Jade is furiously angry. Her eyes blaze with a rage that he's only seen so far when someone says the name "Deathstroke." She clenches her fists and says three words. "I'll kill her."

 

"Jade, we can't." That's Artemis. "It's not her fault. She didn't ask for this. We can help her."

 

"It's not Mother, Artemis. It's a _thing._ It's a mockery of her. Mother would hate it. She would hate being copied like that. We owe it to her to destroy it."

 

"Jade, it's like having Mom back-"

 

"It's not _our_ mother!"

 

"Jade. Artemis." He understands Jade's angry- shares it, even. Part of him even has some of Artemis' hope. He doesn't want to see this Other Paula killed. He doesn't want her near his girls, but he doesn't want her destroyed. It'd be like seeing his wife die all over again … "This isn't helping. I told you because I didn't want you blindsided. I know Ras. I know the Shadows. They'll use this. They'll use your anger, Jade- they'll use your hope, Artemis. Your better than this. Stronger than this. Both of you. Now you know she's out there, and you can deal with it."

 

"'Deal with it'? Just how are we supposed to do that, Daddy Dearest?" Jade raises an eyebrow and looked at him with something that's a cross between annoyance and anger.

 

"By doing what they don't expect." He smiles at her. He smiles at both of them. They're his girls. They can succeed even where he'd fail.

 

Jade looks at him. Artemis looks at him. Then they look at each other.

 

And they smile.

 

He doesn't ask them what they're planning. He doesn't tell them what to do. They're his girls. They have everything he taught them, everything that Paula showed them, and all they have learned from Black Canary and their Team.

 

He trusts them. He believes in them. And he does the hardest thing a man, a father, can do:

 

He lets them fight their own battles.

 

 

He's not surprised at all a week later when Black Canary shows up to tell him how the girls' Team has taken down Other Paula and several other of the villains (and he can't believe that he's come to use that term without irony) that had been plaguing them since they had first busted Superboy out of Project Cadmus.

 

"They fell for it hook, line and sinker. You would think that Luthor would have been smarter than that. He is supposed to be a genius after all." Black Canary- no, _Dinah_ \- murmured with a smile.

 

"Doesn't surprise me at all. Luthor- all of them- operate under the assumption that you can't trust anyone." He likes the way she smiles at him. Likes it in a way that he's not sure is the best of ideas, but he can't stop the feeling. "The kids trusted each other- trusted each other enough they could share their secrets. Once that was done … once that was done, they had no other leverage." He shrugs. "It's probably a good idea that Luthor didn't simply try to bond with Superboy. God knows that Superman's doing a lousy job of it."

 

"He really has made a mess of things," Dinah admitted. "Fortunately, Superboy has the team in his corner- and you." And there's something in her eyes that makes him nervous.

 

He looks away. "I haven't done anything special. The boy just needs someone to listen to him."

 

She reaches out and took his hand. "You're always doing that."

 

"Doing what?" Her hands are warm. And for a martial artist, they feel surprisingly soft.

 

"Acting like you're useless. The kids trust you, you know. Not just the girls. But Superboy, Kid Flash- all of them trust you more than anyone else. Even me."

 

He tries to pull away from her hand, but she holds onto it with that surprising strength. "I don't think so. You're their teacher."

 

"So are you. They've all learned something from you. Even Robin. That's why Batman wanted you here. You're a good man, Lawrence Crock."

 

"No. I ain't. I've done terrible things. Things that can't be forgiven." It's why he can't look her in the eye.

 

"I know you believe that, Lawrence." Her lips seem to caress his name, and she lets go of his hand and touches his face. "It's one of your more endearing qualities. You know when to feel guilty about something. It's one of the things I like about you. One of the _many_ things I like about you..."

 

"Dinah ..."

 

"I like the way you say my name, Lawrence. That's why I trusted you with my real name." She breathes into his ear. "Say my name again, Lawrence."

 

"Dinah … This isn't ..."

 

"It's so cute when you act like this, Lawrence. Act like you don't want me to be this close to you." She nuzzles his neck. "Act like you don't want me to touch you … when we both know it's what you want more than anything else."

 

"No ..." He wants this. He wants her. But … "Arrow. What about Arrow?"

 

"Arrow? Ah, yes. Green Arrow. He's a hero. He's _supposed_ to be a hero, but he never apologizes, Lawrence. No matter what he does to me- no matter what he does to _Roy_ \- he never says he's sorry. He never stops doing it either. He never stops hurting us." She kisses his neck. "He'd be so mad if he saw me. Saw us. He's jealous of you already. Terribly jealous because he knows I trust you."

 

"This ain't right, Dinah ..." He groans and puts his hands in her hair. "This ain't right ..."

 

"If _he_ were here- if Wonder Woman or Hawkwoman were doing to him what I'm doing to you- do you think he'd stop? Do you think he wouldn't just _take_ what he wants, Lawrence? He wouldn't care about me. Or Hawkman. Or anyone else. He'd just _take_ what he wants. Why don't you do that, Lawrence? After everything that's happened, after everything you've lost, don't you think you deserve something good? Something like _me?"_

 

She's looking at him with a smile on her lips. There's an invitation in her eyes. One that hasn't seen from a woman in years. One that he never thought he'd ever see again …

 

He pulls her face to his and kisses her with a savagery, with a passion, that he had thought long dead in him.

 

She kisses him back, her arms wrapping around him, her fingers dancing across his neck …

 

And then he feels _it_.

 

A shooting pain that drowns his passion in anguish. He lets go of Dinah, clutches his neck, feels something _slither_ its way into his skin … wrap itself around his spine …

 

"The children do trust you more than anyone else, Lawrence." Dinah steps back from him. "More than me. More than Red Tornado. That's why we need you. Why The Light needs you ..."

 

 _The Light?_ He wants to ask questions, but he can't. The pain is too great.

 

"Of course you're of limited use as you are. Fortunately, Lord Savage knew that, and decided to make sure you got a _special_ treatment."

 

Lord Savage? Vandal Savage?

 

"Dinah? What … what did they do to you? What are you doing to me …?"

 

"They've made me better, Lawrence. I follow The Light. And you will too. Just let it happen, Lawrence. Let it happen."

 

But all his life he's fought, and he's not about to stop now.

 

"Dinah, you can't let … you can't let them hurt the kids ..."

 

"Oh they won't, Lawrence. They'll become part of The Light."

 

No. He can't let this happen. He _won't_ let this happen...

 

And then he feels his toes.

 

He _feels_ his toes.

 

It burns through his brain, wiping away the thought of everything else.

 

He can _feel_ his toes.

 

And his legs. He can _feel_ his legs.

 

Dinah smiles at him. "See, Lawrence? The Light will take care of you..."

 

He _feels_ himself fading … the part of him that knows that this is wrong, that Savage and his Light will mean nothing but ruin for everything and everyone he cares about … the part of him that _is him …_ that part of him seems to wither, to shrink … to _fade..._

 

He stands.

 

He's unsteady at first, but he _stands_.

 

"Lawrence?" Dinah reaches out to stead him.

 

"Don't call me Lawrence." _He's_ not saying those words. At least not the part of him that's still thinking, that's still aware. That's still _him_. The _thing_ that's inside him … that _thing_ has done something to him … _changed_ him … _split_ him. "I'm Sportsmaster. I'm Sportsmaster! And you're _mine._ "

 

And he pulls her to him and claims her.

 


	23. CAGED

After—after hot lips and warm flesh and mingled cries of pleasure—after he puts on his working clothes again while she watches from the bed they so recently shared. "They still fit."

 

"Yes." He feels pride in that—just as much pride as he felt in the way that Dinah had reacted to his touch … ( _It was wrong. It made a mockery of everything he had felt for her—felt for Paula. He's sick inside.)_ "I did my best to keep in shape."

 

"You succeeded." Her eyes smile at him, and he wonders how much of it is real—how much is Dinah and how much is the _thing_ that's inside her. The _thing_ that's inside _him_ … "But we have to get back to work, Lawrence."

 

"Sportsmaster." His weapons slide back into their holsters as easily as they ever had. Everything's still sharp. He'd taken care of them—taken care of them so he'd never forget what he had done with them.

 

_Never forget the lives he had taken … Oh God. Someone help him …help Dinah …_

 

But he'd long ago given up the idea that God would ever listen to someone like him …

 

"The children—"

 

"The _Team,_ " he corrects her. Their team had no name, but they had earned respect. They weren't just children any more. They weren't just sidekicks. They were heroes—and the Light knew that or it wouldn't have gone to this trouble—wouldn't have taken Lawrence himself—in order to stop them.

 

"The Team." She nods her head slightly as she gets out of the bed— _his_ bed—and starts dressing. "We have to be careful. The Light wants them alive—and so do I."

 

Alive. It gives him hope—and fear. Hope that this _thing_ that had let loose the worst part of him would spare his daughters—and fear of what it would do once it had them.

 

Those feelings—those mixed, tangled feelings—seem to momentarily create a bridge between his two selves. The part that seems to be just taking animalistic pleasure in being able to move again, in having Dinah in his arms, in his bed—that part of him also feels _something_ when thinking about their daughters and what might be happening. Something that he can almost call _concern …_

 

He latches onto that. He holds onto it tight. Prayers may not work for him—he may never be worthy enough to rate concern from Heaven—but he can trust to himself. He can believe that some part of him—no matter how small- that some part of him that the Light can't control will not let anything happen to his girls. He can believe that.

 

He has to.

 

 

He's back in the chair when the kids come in. Back in the chair because it would ruin everything if they knew he was able to walk—because the questions it would raise would put them on their guard. He isn't happy about it, but he doesn't have a choice in the matter.

 

What the Light wants him to do, he does. Rebellion is _not_ an option.

 

Dinah stands beside him and tells the kids the story about Red Arrow. She talks about how the Light had managed to capture the original Roy and clone him as they had done with Superman and Superboy. ( _What will this do to Jade when she finds out?_ ) She tells the kids that Red Arrow managed to escape and the League would be tracking him down because it's League business.

 

( _Did Dinah—the Light—really think the Team would buy that? These kids have been through fire together—come hell or high water, they would look out for each other. Was he the only one who knew them?_ )

 

"What about Jade?" Artemis asks. Her mask as Sport is raised up. She's gotten better at hiding her feelings, but he can still read her like a book. She's wondering why he's wearing his uniform after all this time. She'll ask him—and that will probably be when the Light has him take her down.

 

_No!_

 

He wants to scream. He wants to fight. He wants to shout a warning to them all too—but he can't.

 

He's still alive inside, but the _thing_ is making him a plaything of the Light.

 

"We haven't been able to reach her," he hears himself say. "She may be under control like he is. He could have her held captive somewhere. Hell, he could have killed her …"

 

( _Killed her? Killed Jade … How could he say something like that, so calmly so cavalierly? He feels a twitch in his other self at the words, but his face doesn't change expression._ )

 

Dinah had not told him what happened to Jade. She's alive. He _knows_ that she's alive. He'd feel it in his gut if she were dead. He has to believe that …

 

Artemis's eyes narrow slightly at his words. Kid Flash puts a hand on her shoulder but she shrugs it off. She says nothing else.

 

Zatanna is new to the Team. He hasn't had anything against the girl, but he's never been all that comfortable around magic. Especially magic like hers. How much could she suspect—he only wishes she could hear his thoughts …

 

Or M'Gann. She's a telepath. He knows she likes to the Team. She's supposed to be a powerful telepath—maybe more so than even J'Onn himself.

 

Maybe she can hear him …

 

"The League will look for both Red Arrow and Cheshire. You kids did good work against the Light, but the rest of this is up to the Justice League. Just stay out of trouble and keep an eye on Lawrence. He might be a target—he's worked for Vandal Savage in the past and Savage doesn't take betrayal lightly …"

 

Again he wonders how much of those words are Dinah's, and how much belongs to Savage and The Light. He wonders how much of what happened between them earlier was real and how much was some sick and twisted game of Savage's …

 

He feels a white hot surge of anger from that thought …

 

"Dad?" Artemis asks softly. "What's wrong?"

 

"Nothing, little girl," he says. "Nothing …"

 

Artemis's eyes widen slightly. "Little girl" is something he calls Jade … Artemis is "baby" or "baby girl" …

 

It's not much, but he works with what he can.

 

There's a soft beep from the communication device on Black Canary's belt. "I'm needed back at the Watchtower. I'll send Red Tornado down to help you keep Sports—Lawrence safe." She gives them all a once over, nodding slightly at him, and then walks towards the transporter.

 

"Dad, why are you wearing your uniform?" Artemis asks as soon as Dinah's gone.

 

"With Arrow turned, the Shadows will know where to find me. If I'm going down, I'm going down fighting, little girl."

 

"Nothing will happen to you, Mr. Crock," Kaldur said earnestly. "The Team will make sure of that."

 

"Thanks, son." Kaldur and The Bird were the primary targets the Light wanted converted first. Take them down and the Team would be crippled even if they discovered that something was wrong. Conversion was preferred; but if that wasn't possible …

 

_Blood on his hands … blood from those who trusted him …_

 

"Roy—Red Arrow—was one of us. _Is_ one of us. We will find him," Kaldur tells the others as soon as Dinah's gone.

 

He's oddly touched that Kaldur thinks nothing of saying these words in front of him. Apparently he is also considered "one of us."

 

"We can't leave Mr. Crock alone!" Robin objects.

 

"No, we really shouldn't." Artemis's eyes narrow as she looks at him again.

 

"Why don't you split up?" he suggests to them. "Kaldur, you're Roy's best friend and the person he cares the most for outside of Jade. If anyone can find him, you can. Take Artemis with you—I know she'll make sure her sister is okay."

 

And hopefully be safe herself.

 

"Red's been guarding me for years. I'm sure he can keep doing the job if you leave him a few backups, Kaldur." _C'mon, kid. Get Artemis out of here …_

 

"Very well. M'Gann, Kid Flash, Artemis, Rocket and I will try to find Roy. Conner, Robin, and Zatanna will stay with Red Tornado to guard Mr. Crock. M'Gann will keep us in constant telepathic contact as long as we are in her range. We'll depend on radios after that. Are there any questions?"

 

"None here." It wasn't an ideal situation for conversion. In spite of her youth and inexperience, Zatanna was a powerful sorceress. Superboy was a physical powerhouse. Robin had been trained by The Bat and in spite of his youth he had the most combat experience of anyone on the Team.

 

They might even be able to beat him.

 

Hopefully.

 

He didn't know why he wasn't as much under control as Dinah seemed to be—he hoped to God that she was fully under control and would not remember what they had done, what the Light had forced her to do—but he could still think even if he couldn't give the Light's plans away or refuse to do their bidding. He had done what he could to warn the Team, and he had tried to keep his baby girl safe.

 

The Light had the Justice League. The Light had the element of surprise. The Light even had him.

 

All that stood between them and whatever Savage was planning were a covert team of teenage super heroes that the world thought of as sidekicks.

 

In spite of the situation—in spite of the Light's control—he smiles.

 

Savage wouldn't know what hit him.

 


	24. All My Kids

Tornado exchanges a glance with him when he shows up. Just a nod, but enough to let him know that Tornado has been compromised (of course he was or Dinah wouldn't have sent him down) and that they have a job to do. He wonders exactly what the _thing_ is—what it is that can take control of an android, assorted aliens, and even return his legs to him.

 

Again he wonders if there's some reason that some part of him remains free. He wonders if the others that the Light have taken are also trapped within themselves. Dinah hadn't given any sign of inner rebellion, and he wonders if there's a reason why the Light had gone to such trouble as to not only enslave him, but to give him back his legs …

 

He wonders, but that's all he can do.

 

The other part of him—the part that belongs body and soul to the Light—that part of him is already falling back into old habits. He knows who he will take down first if it comes to that; how he will defeat each one of them. He knows just how brutal he will have to be.

 

And he hates himself for it.

 

"Roy a traitor," Robin says as he works on the main computer. "I just can't believe it."

 

"He didn't have a choice, kid," he's wheeling closer to the boy—ostensibly to look over his shoulder—and out of the corner of the eye he sees Red Tornado approaching Superboy from behind.

 

And just when he's about to drop one of the _Things_ on Robin, Red Tornado freezes solid.

 

"What the-?" Robin turns and races over to Red's side. "What happened? What does he have in his hand?"

 

"It looks like those bio chips that phony Huntress took with her when we fought in the Smoky Mountains," Superboy mutters.

 

"Maybe that explains this strange magic energy I've been sensing… but I'd swear I started to feel it before Red showed up …" Zatanna begins.

 

"You think that Canary might have been affected?" He puts the suggestion out there before the Team has a chance to latch onto the truth.

 

"Did you notice anything strange about her? She was with you for quite a while before we showed up." Superboy gives him an odd look, and he's grateful that the teenager doesn't have the full visual powers of Superman.

 

"Now that you mention it, she did seem a little off." He looks at them. "Maybe we should get Red into the lab and see if you can reboot him or access his memory banks or something to tell us what happened."

 

"Sounds like a plan." Robin nods and Superboy picks up the stuff body of Red Tornado and heads towards the lab.

 

Zatanna pauses, giving him a strange look.

 

"We should get going," he wheels himself towards the lab. He wonders how long it'll be before the Light sends someone else to check on the situation—wonders how much they can see through his eyes. He doesn't know, but then he was used to working without backup so there's no reason to think the Light had reason to believe he was in too deep just yet.

 

Time.

 

He's running out of time.

 

They all are.

 

Robin finally determines that whatever's wrong with Red Tornado is hardware rather than software related. Zatanna suggests hooking Red up to the android body he'd been making for himself, and seeing if that will get them the answers they need.

 

He doesn't know what's going to happen when Red wakes up. He doesn't know if the android will still be under the Light's control. He gets himself ready for either option.

 

It seems to take forever.

 

His inner self, his free self, is worried for his old friend. Red's more than his jailer; he's his friend. Hell, he's family now. What if whatever was done to him is irreparable? What if he's gone forever?

 

The android body—the new body—bolts up right, and looks him straight in the eyes. Even before Red speaks, he knows the gig is up. "Run!"

 

He bolts out of the chair and punches Zatanna in the throat. The girl falls to her knees, retching.

 

"Zatanna!" Robin's angry and leaps him at him as though he's going to tear him apart with his bare hands.

 

Bad idea.

 

He catches the Bird's hands and swings him into Zatanna. Hard.

 

Neither one of them get up.

 

"Crock! What's wrong with you?" Superboy jumps over Red's old body and tackles him. The boy is stronger, faster, and almost impossible to hurt. By rights, that should have finished the fight then and there.

 

But he's no ordinary man. He's the Sportsmaster. He spent decades fighting super powered men and women and coming out on top.

 

The secret is being prepared.

 

There wasn't any kryptonite in the cave, and the League had confiscated the small amount he'd had when they took him into custody. It would have made things easier, but he had fought Superman without it, and he knew there was one other weakness the Big Red S (and his boy) had that was just as effective against them:

 

Magic.

 

The knife isn't especially large or lethal in design. He doesn't know what was it used for—he doesn't even know where Paula got it, but she had given it to him as a present after the first time they'd made love. Maybe it's an Atlantean letter opener or something.

 

Whatever else it is, it's magic.

 

And when he stabs Superboy in the neck with it, it goes in just as easily as the Boy of Steel wasn't invulnerable at all.

 

He's not sure if Superboy was just lucky enough to be moving or if he was somehow able to prevent his outer self from severing an artery, but the wound, while painful, isn't fatal.

 

He kicks Superboy off him.

 

"Leave them alone, Lawrence."

 

Red Tornado is trying to rise from the bed.

 

"I would if I could, Red. You ought to know that. I ain't got a choice."

 

"There's always a choice, Lawrence."

 

_Do it, Red. Don't talk. Just do it! Don't let them win—don't let_ _**me** _ _win!_

 

His javelin is in his hands. One thrust and Red's new life is over before it really begins. He pulls back.

 

_Do it, Red! Do it! For the love of God, stop me!_

 

Red raises his hands and a scarlet whirlwind slams into him like a freight train.

 

He's grinning when he hit the wall.

 

_Good job, Red. Keep them safe… Keep my girl safe … keep_ _**all m** _ _y kids safe …_

 

And then the world goes black.

 


	25. Last One Standing

Hours later, he's standing between Red Arrow and Red Tornado and trying to pull a con on Vandal Savage.

 

It's a bad idea.

 

Vandal Savage has seen every con in the book. Hell, he saw them before there _were_ books. You don't survive 50,000 years without seeing a thing or two.

 

He's got his mask back … the mask he swore he would never wear again, and he's actually grateful because it's even better than his poker face. He needs that. He needs that because Savage has his little girl, his Jade …

 

Red Arrow—Roy—had told him that she had been one of the first people he'd infected with Starrotech. He had looked away when he said it. He had looked like he had expected to be hit for what he had done … possibly even killed.

 

And if he had still been the Sportsmaster, still been the man he had been when Paula was alive, then Red Arrow would have died right then.

 

But he wasn't that man any longer, and Roy—clone or not—was one of his kids now.

 

So he had hugged the younger man and said, "We'll get her back."

 

He had expected that Savage would have sent Jade out on a mission—they had already found that The Light had sent six of the Justice League off to do God knows what, God knows where—so he was surprised to see her standing at Savage's side, wearing a dress that left little to the imagination.

 

To his credit, Roy keeps his face expressionless, but he's as tense as a drawn bow.

 

He understands that. Hell, he shares it.

 

If Savage had touched his little girl, if he had hurt his little girl, then, immortal or not, Savage would die.

 

But if he let his anger free now the mission is going to fail—if Savage is onto them too soon than the Team won't have time to finish this mission of subduing and reclaiming the Justice League. So he does his best to bite down on his rage, to throttle his desire to rip out Savage's throat with his teeth, and does his best to act like a good little drone.

 

Klarion the Witch Boy is with Vandal and Jade. He's not happy about that. The little psychopath is a powerful enough mage to wage battle against Doctor Fate and not get his butt kicked in five seconds. The one thing they'll have going for them is that the witch brat is too impulsive to use his powers strategically.

 

"Any problems?" Savage asks them after one long look. His hand is lightly resting on Jade's shoulder.

 

He knows.

 

He can see it in Savage's eyes. He's known Savage too long. He can see the smirk for what it is … but they still have to buy the team time.

 

"Nothin' too much. The kids got in a few good licks, but we took 'em out."

 

Tornado goes on to sprout his patter about the Team awaiting reprogramming on Earth, and Savage give him enough rope to hang himself … calling out one of the Green Lanterns to lock them down.

 

Bad.

 

But he still keeps himself from moving, from acting. They don't expect much from him—not even Savage. After all, to them he's just a man … and one that had been crippled for years at that.

 

So he waits for his moment, knowing that each second that Savage rants is another that the Team has to reclaim the League.

 

So he doesn't try to break free from the Lantern. He doesn't resist when they put the Starrotech on them again … he doesn't resist because he's looking forward to the moment that he shows Savage who he's dealing with.

 

Ironically enough, it's Klarion—no one's poster boy for "Mr. Observant" who points out to Savage they aren't back under control—right after detecting the Team's presence on the satellite.

 

"You're slipping, Vandal!" He can't resist the taunt as he slams the blunt end of his javelin into a surprised Lantern's gut and slapping the cure onto his neck even as he knocks him out.

 

"Jade, deal with your father. Klarion, the children have clearly engineered a cure for the Starrotech. We no longer have to worry about taking them alive. Recall the League and have them put an end this."

 

"Goody."

 

The Witch brat recalls six of the League from wherever the Light had sent them—bad news it's Superman, Wonder Woman, the other Green Lantern, Hawkwoman, Martian Manhunter, and The Bat, and he knows that things are going to get rough.

 

Jade leaps at him and lashes out with a killing blow.

 

It's sloppy, and he knows that his little girl would be embarrassed if she was in control of herself. She hasn't been that bad since she was a little more than a toddler.

 

He slips past her guard and hits her with the cure and she drops to the floor.

 

Of course that's the only good thing going for him right then—in the time that it took him to take down Jade, both of the Reds have taken out by the League.

 

He's all alone.

 

"Lawrence, I am sorely disappointed with you. I went to the trouble of restoring your legs to you, allowed you to dally with that woman you're infatuated with, and you betray me. I thought we were friends."

 

"You don't do anything out of the goodness of your heart, Vandal." He should shut up. He should back down. Maybe a little groveling would save his life, but he doesn't have it in him. No, all he wants now is to buy the Team time—and keep his daughters alive. "If you were my friend you wouldn't have dressed my daughter up like some cheap tart."

 

"Yes, it was a bit gaudy, I admit, but I thought that Ras would appreciate it if she went to him giftwrapped."

 

He knows that Savage is riding him, but he can't help himself. "The Shadows will never get my girls! Never!" He throws the javelin right at Savage's twisted black heart …

 

And of course the immortal caveman catches it with one hand.

 

"Lawrence, Lawrence, your children have made you weak. You could have been my right hand. You could have had all the wealth and power you could have ever desired."

 

"I'd have been a lot poorer than I am now, Vandal." He doesn't have money—he doesn't have a future beyond Artemis' 18th birthday—but he has girls. He has his girls, and he's had the Team on his side, and that's worth more to him than any gold or power that Savage would have ever given him.

 

He's going to die.

 

Savage has the League. He has Klarion.

 

And Lawrence Crock only has his himself...

 

He tosses his mask off and flashes a feral grin at the caveman.

 

And Vandal Savage … blinks.

 

"C'mon, Vandal. Enough with the foreplay. Let's get to the main event. Let's dance!"

 

He's going to die.

 

But every minute—every second—he gives the Team brings them that much closer to saving the League, to saving Jade. Hell, maybe even saving the world.

 

Sometimes, you don't have to live to win.

 

_I love you, kids._

 

And then Lawrence Crock does what he's always done best:

 

Fight for the people he loves.


	26. Not A Good Man

It's almost frightening how easily he slips back into being Sportsmaster. He's spent years trying to be a better man, a stronger man—and now he's fighting for his life and all the old reflexes, tactics and strategies come roaring back. He's the Sportsmaster again.

 

He'll always be the Sportsmaster.

 

He'll always be a killer.

 

The Team would not do this. The Justice League would not do this. Even Jade would not do it.

 

But he's the Sportsmaster.

 

He's not a hero. He's not a good man. He'll never be a good man.

 

So he throws a knife at Klarion the Witch Boy. He throws it with all his strength, all his speed, and with every ounce of skill that he possesses.

 

The blade goes in deep into Klarion's left eye and he screams in pain. He clutches his face and sobs. His cat hissing in anger and fear.

 

Even Vandal Savage blinks.

 

And then Klarion dies.

 

The League collapses like puppets with broken strings.

 

Vandal Savage blinks again. "That was … unexpected of you, old friend."

 

He grins at the caveman. It's feral. Wild. Like him. "Yeah, well, you brought back the Sportsmaster, Vandal. The world's greatest assassin. And then you threatened my kids. Not exactly the brightest thing you've ever done."

 

The League is down. Red Tornado has been disarmed … literally.

 

And Klarion is dead. His cat, his familiar, is batting at his face, trying desperately to wake him up.

 

The Team is dealing with the rest of the League … or were. If the rest of the League collapsed like the ones here, they'll be coming. Coming to save him.

 

Or stop him.

 

"You can't kill me, Lawrence. I'm immortal."

 

"Who are you trying to convince, Vandal? Me or you?"

 

Savage throws the javelin back at him. Right at his heart.

 

He catches it. "Thanks. I'll be needing this."

 

Savage is afraid.

 

He can see it in his eyes. He's seen it before in the eyes of other men that he's killed. He sees it in his nightmares now.

 

He's okay with that in Savage's case.

 

"Maybe I can't kill you, Vandal. But I can sure as hell try. You might be alive when I'm done, but you won't want to be."

 

Savage snarls at him, growling like the caveman he was 50,000 years ago. He's a killer too. He's a beast. Underneath it all, he's still the same half-animal he was when he ruled his people with a raised fist.

 

But Vandal's civilized enough to know death when he sees it.

 

Lawrence Crock walks to where he tossed his mask away when he prepared to face the Justice League. Without showing any concern over what Savage might do, he picks it up and slips it back over his face. He's done running from what he is now. "Goodbye, Vandal."

 

He's seen Vandal Savage do a lot of things over the years. But tonight … tonight he does something that Crock has never seen him do before:

 

He runs.

 

"The Team is coming, Lawrence," Red Tornado says in his monotone voice. "We've won."

 

"Not yet we haven't. No one's safe while Savage's alive."

 

"The Justice League does not kill, Lawrence."

 

"Good thing I ain't part of the League then. Goodbye, Red."

 

He runs after Savage.

 

The caveman is scared. He's running for his life. But if he can't get away, he'll fight—and he is strong enough, dangerous enough, that he might be able to kill Crock.

 

He can't let him.

 

His girls will never be safe while Savage lives. The Team will never be safe. And they will never try to stop Savage the only way he can be stopped.

 

But _he_ can.

 

 _He_ will.

 

Savage manages to make it to one of the hangers before he catches up to him. "You're being foolish, Lawrence. You belong on my side, as my right hand. You are not like them. You will never be like them."

 

"You're right, Vandal."

 

Savage relaxes.

 

"I'm not a good man. I got rivers of blood on my hands. I've lost count of how many people I've killed. I'm no hero. I'll never be a hero. I'm just like you."

 

Savage smiles.

 

"But my kids aren't."

 

Savage frowns.

 

"They're not like me. They're not like you. They're heroes. And I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe from the likes of us."

 

He's no genius. He's no engineer or scientist … but he's worked for Vandal, for Lex Luthor. He's been in space before. He knows what he has to do.

 

He slams his hand against the emergency release button and shaped explosive charges blow the hanger door off. Savage has time for one final scream before he's sucked out into space along with one of the League's spacecraft.

 

"You may not die, but you'll not be hurting anyone while you're floating around in space, Savage."

 

Of course the flaw in his plan is that he's about to follow Savage into the void …

 

He holds onto the wall as long as he can. His hands are strong, but he's only human. And after what seems like forever—though he later finds out that it's less than 15 seconds—he loses his grip—

 

And a red and yellow blur intercepts him before he's lost to space.

 

"Got you!" Kid Flash pants as they collapse on the deck outside the hanger.

 

"That you did, kid. That you did." It feels like one of his ribs may be cracked or even broken—but he's not going to complain about that. Bones heal.

 

"Daddy!" Artemis runs up and hugs him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Red said you went after Savage. I was so afraid I was going to lose you…"

 

"You can thank the kid here that you didn't."

 

Artemis breaks away from him and looks at Kid Flash. "Thanks, Wally."

 

And then she kisses him.

 

With a great deal of effort, Lawrence Crock refrains from commenting on this. Instead, he looks away.

 

"Was that for saving your dad?" Kid Flash asks her when he can breathe again.

 

"No. That's your New Year's kiss."

 

"It's not New Year's yet."

 

And at that moment, the Justice League computer announces that it is indeed New Year's.

 

And Kid Flash kisses her back.

 

"You might not want to do that in front of Artemis's father, Kid," Dinah announces as she, Batman, and Superman walk up.

 

"Sorry, sir." Kid Flash blushes.

 

"It's all right, Kid. I ain't going to tear your head off. Tonight."

 

Dinah kneels beside him, her eyes burning into his. "Are you all right, Lawrence?"

 

He can't tell if she remembers what happened between them. "I'm fine. You?"

 

"I'm good."

 

The kids are too wrapped up in each other to pick it up, and the Boy Scout is oblivious, but he sees the subtle frown on The Bat's face and he knows that he might as well have given him a signed confession of what happened.

 

"Lawrence, we need to get you to sickbay. One of your ribs—"

 

"I figured, Supes. I've been around long enough to know when I'm hurt and how badly. It's nothing serious."

 

They take him to sickbay, and there's a small body covered with a sheet on the table next to his.

 

"The cat's gone. Zatanna says she probably won't last long now that their link has been broken." Batman is the one who's taping his ribs up.

 

"That's good, I guess."

 

"You killed him."

 

"Klarion? Or Savage?"

 

"The boy."

 

"Yeah. I did." He sighs. "I couldn't beat all of you—I couldn't stop all of you. Savage was the puppet master, but the Witch Boy was controlling the strings. Once he went down …"

 

"You killed him, Crock."

 

"So we're back to Crock now, Bats?" He sighs. "Yes. I did. I killed him."

 

"That's not what we do."

 

"It's not what you do. I know. I'm not you." He pauses. "You've told the Team?"

 

"No."

 

He looks over at The Bat in surprise.

 

"That's your job."

 

He nods. "You're right. It is."

 

The Bat finishes taping up his ribs. "I understand why you did it, Crock, but you should have found another way."

 

"Maybe."

 

Or maybe there was no other way. Not for him. He's a killer. Always has been. Always will be.

 

"Can I come in?" Dinah is standing in the door.

 

"We're done here." The Bat steps away. "I'll talk to the Team. They did well tonight. They deserve to hear that. We'll continue our conversation later, Crock."

 

"I'll be counting the minutes, Bats."

 

With that, The Bat walks away.

 

"Jade is fine. She woke up a few minutes ago. She's got a headache, but that's it." Dinah pauses. "There's no sign that Savage … abused her."

 

He sighs in relief. "Thank God."

 

"Lawrence …"

 

"Yes, Dinah?"

 

"The League. We don't remember everything that happened. Superman, Wonder Woman, Hawkwoman, the Martian Manhunter, Green Lantern, and Batman—they were off planet for hours. We haven't figured out what they did or what happened with them."

 

"If Savage was involved, nothing good."

 

"The rest of us—the rest of us remember some things. Bits and pieces. I remember infecting you with the Starrotech …" Her voice trails off.

 

"And you don't remember anything else."

 

"Lawrence, I—"

 

"You don't remember anything else, Dinah." He gives her a stern look. "That's what you'll tell him if he asks."

 

"I—"

 

"Dinah." He touches her cheek. "You don't remember."

 

She kisses him. Once on the lips. Then again on the forehead. "You're a good man, Lawrence."

 

"No. No I'm not." His eyes go back to the body of Klarion the Witch Boy. "If there's one thing I'm not, it's a good man …"


	27. Never Stop Trying

He's always hated suits.

 

He can wear them, and wear them well. Sometimes a job would depend on looking like he belonged in a suit and tie, and he's always been a professional. This, however, is going to be the toughest job he's ever pulled.

 

His time has run out.

 

Tonight his baby girl is going to walk across the stage and pick up her high school diploma. She's starting college in the fall (and she thinks that he doesn't know she's planning on moving in with Wally). Getting Jade to actually _finish_ high school had been a chore and a half, he hadn't pressured her to actually go through the graduation ceremony. He's proud of Jade- proud of both his girls- but somehow knowing that Artemis is going onto something bigger … better … that she's leaving the Life behind … makes tonight bearable.

 

He's smiling.

 

He's smiling because his girls are safe.

 

They've got good seats for Artemis' graduation. Him and the Team are there. (All but Kaldur and there's still a stab of grief there that he wasn't able to reach through the boy's pain and lead him back home.) Jade's at his side. She's showing now. (It's going to be a girl; Jade hasn't told him, but he can feel in his gut that his first grandchild will be a girl.) Roy is beside her, looking anxious and like he'd rather be anywhere than here.

 

He knows Roy is still looking for Speedy … the _first_ Roy Harper. If the League has him, he knows that Speedy will never be found, but he won't try to stop the young man from looking. You can't bury another man's ghost.

 

Robin- _Nightwing_ ; he's not been Robin for years now- is sitting beside Wally, listening to the speedster ramble and cracking an occasional joke of his own. He doesn't smile as much as he used; not since the Bats lost one of their own; but his light hasn't gone out. He's been leader since Kaldur left; it's not something he wants, but he does it, and does it well. The Bat raised him right.

 

Wally … Crock smiles to himself when he considers his baby girl's boyfriend. Wally is lightning in a bottle. He's irrepressible. Always has been. It's a trait that Crock would have found annoying in his old life; but Wally lightened his baby girl's spirit. She needed him; needed someone who could remind her there are times to laugh. He'll always be grateful to the speedster for that …

 

And more than that, Wally has talked Artemis into trying a _normal_ life. Crock wants that for her. He wants that for both his girls so bad he can taste it. He's not sure his blood will ever let them have that, but he's got the dream.

 

Conner- _Superboy_ \- is sitting next to Nightwing. He's not smiling; but then Crock can count on one hand the number of times he's seen the kid smile in all the years he's known him. He's more at peace though than he used to be; his improved relationship with the Big S has made the whole thing with M'Gann a little easier for him to bear.

 

He sighs.

 

M'Gann is on the other side of Roy. They aren't friends, really; but it's about as far away from Conner as she can sit. Her new boyfriend- the Atlantean boy who's a new member of the Team- is chattering excitedly in his native tongue to her. La'gaan is not a bad kid, but he's just that; a kid. It won't last.

 

Red Tornado is with them, too, and Crock wouldn't have it any other way. The android is family; his girls will need all the family they can get in the days ahead. He's promised to visit- if Crock will ever be allowed visitors.

 

Dinah wanted to come, but a League emergency came up. In a way, he's glad; there are some goodbyes he'd just as soon not make. Not again.

 

Still, Dinah had been as much a mother for his girls as they'd had since they had lost Paula. He knows she loves them. It'll be easier knowing she'll be there.

 

Jade is watching him just as much as she's been watching the stage. "There's still time." She's speaking to him in Vietnamese. Her mother's language.

 

"No there's not." He replies to her in the same tongue.

 

"There is! I have money. Transportation. You could escape."

 

"I gave my word."

 

"You stayed in custody until we were grown. You have trained their children. You have fought beside them. There is no reason you must now tamely submit to being caged! You are my father! Fight!" She looks at him, and there are tears in her eyes. "Live. For me. For Artemis. For my baby. Don't let them take you away from us, Daddy. I can't do this"- and she gestures at her belly- "I can't be a mother without my father to guide me."

 

He wants to live. He wants to fight. He wants to escape. He does not want this.

 

But … "I can't. I promised."

 

He's not a good man. He's never been a good man. The one thing he has always been, though, is true to his word.

 

He made a promise. He's going to keep it.

 

"I told her you'd say that." Jade closes her eyes.

 

"Her?" Dinah?

 

Jade points to a woman who's sitting by herself … watching the stage. He knows her. Knows that profile. The name escapes his lips before he can stop himself. "Paula ..."

 

"No. That … _thing_ is not my mother." Jade looks at him. "But she offered to help you escape."

 

"I suppose I should talk to her then."

 

"Good luck with that."

 

"Nightwing, I'll be sitting over there for a few minutes." He smiles. "Don't worry, kid. I'm not going anywhere."

 

"I know. I trust you."

 

Crock is oddly touched by that. "Best be careful. The Bat will put you back in short pants for going around saying things like that."

 

In response, the younger man smiles.

 

There's no good time to block anyone's view of their child graduating, but he makes it as quick as he can … moving from his seat over to where Paula's clone is waiting for him. She doesn't stop looking at the stage, but he knows she's aware of every move he's making. If he tried to attack her, she would be ready. If he tries to run, she'd be ready to back him up.

 

She's good.

 

"You're not coming."

 

"No. I can't." He takes a deep breath as he sits in the seat beside her. She looks younger than Paula did when she died. Barely older than Jade. It breaks his heart every time he meets her. "I'm sorry."

 

"She said you wouldn't. I should have listened. This was all a waste of time."

 

"It's not a total waste. At least you're here to see Artemis graduate."

 

"She's nothing to me. I'm not her mother. She's my enemy. You're all my enemies."

 

"Then why did you offer to help me?"

 

"Because … you would be an asset to the Shadows … to _me._ " As Jade did before her, she speaks to him Vietnamese. "It's be like old times, Lawrence. The Huntress and the Sportsmaster together again."

 

Old memories.

 

Moonlight and murder. Danger and debauchery. Living by their wits, and what they were strong enough to take for themselves. It was not a good life … but it had been _living._

 

"You have no idea how tempting that sounds." He smiles at her. "But I can't."

 

"Because I'm not her." She looks at him with Paula's eyes, but there's a pain in them he'd never seen when they were hers. "Because I'm not good enough for you."

 

"Trust me, that's not it." He touches her cheek. It's more dangerous than it sounds- it wouldn't totally surprise him if she decided to tear it off for trying. One does not lightly caress a tigress … "It's not that you're not her. It's that I'm not that guy any longer. I'm older. Wiser maybe. That life … it takes you to places I don't want to go back to. Not now."

 

"Why not? You loved it. I know." She touches her forehead. "Everything she knew- I know. I know what you had. I know what you were. What you were always meant to be."

 

He smiles in spite of himself. Those memories are powerful. He remembers feeling young and strong, like he could take on the world. Life was simple … then. "I miss those days, sometimes." But then his eyes flicker to the stage where Artemis is waiting for her chance to pick up her diploma. They go to the seats where Jade is waiting for him. "But only sometimes."

 

"You're a fool, Lawrence."

 

"Probably."

 

"They're going to lock you away. You'll grow old in some dark cell. Your children's children will nothing know of you- nothing but shame."

 

"That's not true." He's surprised by how calm he is. "That only happen if I go with you."

 

"I am done wasting my time with you." She starts to get up, but he grabs her hand again.

 

"Not yet. Stay. You should watch this." He nods to the stage. "She's part of you too."

 

"She's not my daughter."

 

"No she's not. But they are part of who you are." He's not sure why he wants this- wants to try to forge some sort of connection between this woman and his children. She's not Paula, but he wants her to be more than just another assassin. "Part of who you could be."

 

"I am not you, Lawrence. I am the Huntress. Nothing more, nothing less."

 

"Stay. Watch. You'll regret it if you go now."

 

She stares at him for a moment, and then sits back down.

 

And when Artemis crosses the stage, she holds onto his hand just as Paula would have done.

 

And for a moment, he lets himself pretend that it _is_ Paula.

 

"This changes nothing," she says when Artemis's moment is over. "The next time we meet she will still be my enemy."

 

"Maybe." And he knows she's probably right. "Someday maybe she won't be- and this will give you a memory to build on."

 

"You've grown foolish in your old age, Lawrence." She gets up. "I would have saved you. I would have set you free. The heroes- their children- they will cage you and forget you. Remember that."

 

And she walks away.

 

He sighs as he makes his way back to his little girl. Jade squeezes his hand.

 

After the ceremony is over, Artemis comes out and greets them. She's not smiling. Her eyes are filled with tears.

 

She knows what tonight means.

 

"No tears, baby." He hugs her. "We had a good run. We got more time than I ever had a right to expect. You're where you were meant to be. With your friends." He nods at M'Gann, Conner, and Nightwing. "With your family." And he hugs Jade to his side one more time. "And with the man you love. This isn't a time to be sad- this is a time to celebrate how far we've come."

 

Artemis hugs him tightly. "Mom would be proud of you, Daddy. _I'm_ proud of you." She hugs him tighter. "I love you, Daddy."

 

"I love you too, baby girl." He smiles and kisses her forehead. "And I'm proud of you. Both of you." He pulls Jade into his embrace and hugs both his girls again.

 

One final time.

 

"You two are the best part of me. Of your mother. Nothing will ever change that. No matter what happens to me- you two are the legacy I leave behind."

 

"Crock."

 

Superman. Batman.

 

The crowd parts around them. Awed- and intimidated- by their presence.

 

"Guess it's time for me to go, kids."

 

"This isn't right!" M'Gann says softly.

 

"There has to be another way!" Conner agrees. He reaches out to take the Martian girl's hand, and then stops when La'gaan glares at him.

 

Nightwing says nothing, but his eyes speak volumes.

 

Jade is holding Artemis. Roy has his hands on both their shoulders. He looks over at Crock. "They're right. This isn't fair."

 

"Life isn't fair. You all know that. And I've still got a debt to pay."

 

It's a debt he will never be able to pay.

 

There's too much blood. Too much death. He will never be able to balance the scales.

 

But he can keep his word.

 

"Red." He shakes the android's hand. "Hope to see you soon."

 

"I believe you will, Lawrence Crock."

 

"All right, boys. I'm ready. Let's go."

 

He doesn't want it to end this way. He doesn't want his daughter's graduation night marred with his arrest in front of her friends, her classmates. He had hoped the League would give him a chance for a dignified exit from his daughters' lives.

 

But apparently that wasn't going to happen.

 

"You're not going anywhere, Crock." The Bat's voice is as cold as ever. As unforgiving as the night.

 

But there's a twinkle in Superman's eyes. "Not tonight, at least."

 

"You're going to give me the rest of the night?"

 

"Yes. Though I'd advise cutting it short and getting to bed as early as possible. You've got a big day tomorrow."

 

"A big day?"

 

"Yes. You're starting a new job."

 

"New job?"

 

"Yes." And Nightwing is smiling- a smile he's not had since Kaldur left. "You know the Team has gotten pretty large these days. It's a good group, but they're still pretty rough around the edges. We've decided the team needs an adviser. A permanent adviser."

 

"Red-"

 

"Between my duties with the Justice League and my upcoming marriage to Kathy Sutton, I'm afraid I won't be able to devote as much time to the Team as I have in the past. I suggested to the League we find someone who could be there full time to offer the Team a … unique perspective."

 

"But the deal- The cops-"

 

"I talked to them," Superman says with a smile. "Most of the League did, actually."

 

"You're still on probation, Crock." Batman wraps his cloak about him. "I'll be keeping an eye on you."

 

"Probation? Again? But-"

 

"There's one thing that Batman and I have in common, Lawrence." Superman says with a smile.

 

"Capes?" M'Gann asked brightly.

 

Batman glares at her. "Justice."

 

"Sending you away for the rest of your life won't help the people you've hurt, Crock. It won't make the world a better place. It won't make it any safer. And it won't rehabilitate you." Something that's _almost_ a smile crosses Batman's lips. "You've already done that yourself."

 

"Daddy," Jade whispers. She clutches his hand. "Do you know what this means?"

  
"You don't have to go away." Artemis throws her arms around his neck. "You're not going away!"

 

He wraps his arms around his baby girl and hugs her as tightly as he's ever held her in his life. Then he lets he go and pulls Jade into his embrace. "Guess you're going to have Grandpa around to babysit after all, little girl."

 

Jade laughs. "Just don't give her her first weapon until she's done teething."

 

He holds her tightly for a moment and then looks over at Superman and Batman. "I don't deserve this, but- thanks."

 

"Maybe not." Batman nods to the Team. "But they do."

 

And then the Team- Nightwing, Conner, Wally, M'Gann- his _other_ kids- smile at him, and he pulls all of them- even Conner- into his arms.

 

He's not a good man. He's got blood on his hands an ocean couldn't wash away. He's done terrible, unforgivable things. Nothing will ever change that. He can never forget that.

 

He's not a good man.

 

But he'll never ever stop _trying_ to be one.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we come to the end. Thanks to everyone who offered comments and kudos. I hope you all enjoyed the story.


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